


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 






THE HOUSE OF SHAME 









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The House of Shame 

A NOVEL 


In Which is Told a Story of Love and Mar- 
riage, — not the Marriage Preceded by Days of 
Loving Courtship, the Ring and the Kiss, and 
the Congratulations of Relatives and Friends, 
but the Mating that Takes Place in the Great 
American House of Shame, — the Mormon Church. 


BY 

CHARLES FELTON PIDGIN 

Id 

AUTHOR OF “QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER,” “ BLENNERHASSETT,’ ’ 
“STEPHEN HOLTON,” AND OTHER NOVELS 


NEW YORK 

THE COSMOPOLITAN PRESS 

1912 


Copyright, 1912, by 
The Cosmopolitan Press 


< 0 - Cl. A 3 3 0 4 5 3 

?Cg ( 


I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK 
TO THE MEMORY OF 

^arrtrti Bmljrr 

WHO, IN 

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN 

WROTE THE WORDS THAT FOLLOW 
ABOUT SLAVERY , WHICH WORDS 
I HAVE MADE APPLICABLE TO 
THAT OTHER SOCIAL CRIME, POLYGAMY 

“The mothers of America, and its 
patriotic men and women, cannot 
know what Polygamy is; if they did, 
such a question, as to what Chris- 
tian duty should be, could never be 
open for discussion, and from this 
arose a desire to exhibit it as a living, 
dramatic reality 


Chas. Felton Pidgin 














PREFACE 


This is a story of love and marriage; not the 
old-fashioned marriage with its preceding days 
of loving courtship, the ring and the kiss, the con- 
gratulations of relatives and friends, and the cer- 
tificate attesting the tie that binds until broken by 
human or Divine law. 

No, instead, the plural marriage contracted in 
secret; congratulations by no loving friends or rela- 
tives, no ring, no certificate ; a marriage by which 
a man takes two or more wives to his bed and 
board. What are the results of such a system of 
marriage? To show them, in their stern reality, 
this story has been written. 

Blotting out State lines, the United States is a 
Nation of monogamists. Public morals, and the 
law, require that a man shall have but one living, 
legal, wife. Those who contract marriages con- 
trary to this law are termed bigamists, and are 
punishable by its provisions. 

Plural marriage is Polygamy! 

Polygamy is Bigamy! 


PREFACE 

Why should not all bigamists pay the penalty 
prescribed by law? 

It is contended by a certain sect that such mar- 
riages are part of their religious belief, and that 
the Constitution of the United States guarantees 
religious freedom. 

That Constitution does guarantee religious free- 
dom to the individual , but a combination of indi- 
viduals may adopt certain customs, and religious 
ceremonials, contrary to public policy which may 
injuriously affect the morals and detract from the 
happiness of other individuals. 

A man may believe in human sacrifice but he 
has no right to combine with others and carry his 
belief into practice. He may believe that all men 
should give one-tenth of their income to God, but 
he has no right to combine with others and force 
such a contribution. He may believe that a man 
should be allowed to have more than one wife. 
He takes his first wife openly, within the limits 
of the law. But if he takes a second wife, a third, 
or more, he does it secretly, thus acknowledging 
the supremacy of a law which he evades. The 
second, and other wives, unless they are consid- 
ered as paramours only, are entitled to an open 
marriage as well as the first wife. 

Are plural marriages open ? 


PREFACE 

No, they are contracted in secret, and kept se- 
cret. The plural wife does not bear her husband’s 
name — she is only one of a fraternity and is called 
“ Sister.” The children, too, are nameless, for to 
admit the relationship would be a public acknowl- 
edgment of the plural union. 

Is the plural marriage really a marriage? 

If it is a legal marriage, then the husband is 
guilty of bigamy. If it is not a legal marriage, 
then it is illegal and an illicit union also. 

In some of the States and large cities there are 
complete official registration records of births, 
deaths, and marriages. In the great majority, 
these records are wanting or are defective. In all 
the States they should be complete and accurate. 
In such records all plural marriages, and name- 
less children, would be registered as illegal and il- 
legitimate. But, it will be asked, how can reports 
be obtained of secret marriages and their offspring? 
That question will be answered later. 

The divorce laws of the 48 States are dissimilar. 
A law-breaker in one State should not be consid- 
ered a law-abiding citizen in another. How can 
these heterogeneous conditions in the 48 States be 
co-ordinated? Manifestly, only by uniform laws 
on the subjects considered, and these must be Na- 
tional Laws passed by Congress. To pass these 


PREFACE 

laws, Congress must be enabled by an Amendment 
to the Constitution. It should be simple in form 
but comprehensive of all possible details to be cov- 
ered by legislation. 

PROPOSED AMENDMENT 
To the Constitution of the United States. 

Congress shall have power to legislate concern- 
ing the registration of births and deaths, the sol- 
emnization of marriages , and the granting of di- 
vorces . 

Read the book. Decide in your mind if it dis- 
closes a disease in the social body of the nation. 
Then consider the proposed amendment. If you 
think it will cure the evils, work for its adoption. 

C. F. P. 


Winthrop, Mass., 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I A Gentile Home n 

II A Mormon House 22 

III Love Misplaced 30 

IV A Visit in the Night 42 

V The Manifesto 49 

VI Mormon Households 54 

VII The President’s Office .61 

VIII Brother Samson 67 

IX Away from Home 73 

X A Real Marriage 84 

XI Aunt Priscilla’s Opinions 89 

XII Sukey 96 

XIII An Offering to Moloch 106 

XIV A Plural Wife 116 

XV Who Caused the Arrest? 121 

XVI The Majesty of the Law 129 

XVII Hilda’s Baby 136 

XVIII The Confidantes 144 

XIX The Iron Hand 149 

XX Compromised 158 

XXI The Lapse of Time 169 

XXII A Battle Royal 174 

XXIII A Deliverance 184 

XXIV Ida 192 

XXV Euthanasia 197 

XXVI The Confession 204 

XXVII “ I Am Guilty ” 209 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXVIII 

XXIX 

XXX 

XXXI 

XXXII 

XXXIII 


Her Defender . . 

The Trial . . . 

The Lone House . 
The River Jordan . 
“A Wife at Last" 
A Final Reckoning 


page 
. 213 
, 224 
230 
233 
237 
242 


The House of Shame 


CHAPTER I 

A GENTILE HOME 

jVTADISON BRIANT was born in Connecticut 
^ A where, it is supposed, the severe Blue Laws 
made its people so moral and religious that the 
nomen “ land of steady habits ” was not 
a misnomer. He had four brothers, — 
Washington, Adams, Jefferson, and Mon- 
roe, — who were satisfied to hold the plow 
and swing the scythe; but at the age of 
sixteen, the spirit of wanderlust permeated 
Madison, and he ran away from home. To 
many landsmen even the sea is a magnet and 
young Briant was not long in Boston before he was 
shipped as cabin boy on a vessel bound for San 
Francisco. The gold fever was at its height and 
he had dreams of a fortune and of his return 
to his old home a rich man. Then he would 
marry and settle down. He had no intention of 
feeding on husks and sleeping with swine. He 
would be a prodigal son, but he would return 

ii 


12 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

with gifts, and not as a suppliant for food and 
raiment. 

Like ants burrowing in the earth the old forty- 
niners with pick and shovel were at work look- 
ing for nuggets which, in their imaginations, were 
as large as apples. The more credulous insisted 
that some had been found the size of pumpkins. 
Pumpkins made a golden pie — but what a golden 
pie those nuggets would make. Madison joined 
a party. He had a natural aptitude for cooking, 
and had learned much while on the ship. So he 
made coffee and slapjacks for the party of six 
and was to have an eighth of the proceeds. He 
worked all day with the others and did the cook- 
ing besides, which may account for his reduced lay, 
but it was probably due to the fact that he was 
a minor, and unable to fight for a larger share. 

But the size of the share would have made little 
difference. “ Pay dirt,” much less nuggets, was 
not found in large quantities, and the high cost 
of living swallowed up the scanty proceeds. One 
by one the party dwindled away as they sought 
new fields until Jack Larrabee and Madison found 
themselves in possession of the claims. 

One morning Madison overslept. When he 
awoke he looked for Jack, but he was not in sight. 
He called loudly, but there was no response. 


A GENTILE HOME 


i3 


Then a sickening fear seized the boy. Jack had 
deserted him, and he would never find his way 
back to San Francisco. 

But the New England spirit is strong even in 
its youth and Madison set about his preparations 
for breakfast, which was to be a lonely meal, with 
despair for a dessert. He was sitting on a flat 
rock eating, but unmindful of the flavor of the 
food, when a voice called out: 

“ Hello, Maddy, I’m just in time. I’m most 
tuckered out an’ hungry enough to eat roast dog 
as them Indians did that we came across.” 

“ But where have you been? I thought you 
had gone for good.” 

Jack scowled, then laughed quietly. “ That 
warn’t very complimentary of a chap that had 
given his word to stick to yer. But you’re young, 
Maddy, an’ ’taint ter be expected you’d act just 
like a grown-up.” 

“ You had a right to go, if you wanted to,” 
said Maddy. “ They all look out for Number 
One — why shouldn’t you? ” 

“ That’s easy said, Maddy, when I’m back 
again, but you wouldn’t have felt so if I hadn’t 
come back — now, would you ? Own up now, 
honest Indian.” 

Maddy’s face reddened. “ Forgive me, Jack. 


i 4 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

I was frightened to death and I haven’t got over 
it yet. I’ll never doubt you again, and I’ll stick 
by you till the end.” 

“ Well, the end’s coming pretty soon, I reckon.” 

Maddy shivered. “ The flour’s most gone and 
I fried the last bacon this morning. I’m glad 
there was some left for you.” 

“ Don’t worry, Maddy. I got up early and 
wandered off. I kept a going an’ finally I came 
to a river. It might have been a river if there 
had been any water in it, but it was dry as a bone, 
an’ I’m mighty glad it was.” 

Maddy looked at Jack inquiringly. 

“You want to know why that dried up river 
tickled me. Well, I’ll tell yer. When the water 
came down it brought lots of gold dust with it, 
an’ when it ran off or dried up, it don’t make no 
diff’rence which it was, it left the gold behind. 
Maddy, our fortin’s made sure as we’re both 
sinners.” 

This is not a mining story, so it is only neces- 
sary to say that Jack’s expectations were more 
than realized. They ransacked the river-bed for 
its precious dust and, later in the mountain side, 
found the nuggets also. They were small in size, 
but when they were added to the gold-dust Jack 
exclaimed: “That’s a purty valerable mountain, 


A GENTILE HOME 


i5 

ain’t it, Maddy? — an’ half of it’s yours.” 

“ That’s too much,” said Maddy. 

“ No, ’tain’t nuther; pardners is pardners, an’ 
when there’s only two it’s half an’ half.” 

They reached San Francisco and put their find 
into money. Then Jack said, “ I’m going back 
agin.” But Madison had realized what he 
deemed a fortune and he began to think of home 
and mother, and particularly of a Miss Melissa 
Somerby who had wished him God-speed when 
his four husky brothers and the villagers had 
laughed at him for talking about making his for- 
tune when there was a good living for him right 
at home. 

He was a passenger and not a cabin boy when 
he came home on a ship that had just brought 
out another large company of gold-seekers. 
How small the village looked when he saw it 
again. He had a warm welcome at home and 
Melissa said that she had always known that 
he would make his fortune. For months every 
available box and barrel in the grocery store was 
occupied by the greedy listeners who came to hear 
his wonderful stories of life in the diggings, and 
he gave them the impression that lumps of gold 
were as common in Californy as rocks in the vil- 
lage pastures. 


1 6 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

Madison and Melissa were married when he 
was twenty-three and she twenty. The Briant 
house was crowded, for Washington and Adams 
had married and brought their wives home, so 
Madison went to live with Mr. Somerby and Mrs. 
Somerby, for their house was large and there were 
only two children, Melissa and her elder sister, 
Priscilla, at home, their only brother, John, hav- 
ing a farm of his own. Two children were born 
to Madison and Melissa, two boys named Jack- 
son and Harrison to please his father, but they 
fell victims to an epidemic of scarlet fever that 
swept through the village. The mother was 
nearly heart-broken. Women have been called 
“ the deadlier of the species.’’ There are women 
who are sirens and vampires, but there are mil- 
lions who are pure, true, and noble, and the great 
majority should not be classed with, nor judged 
by, the baser part. No love can compare with 
that of a mother for her children, and a mother 
bereft of her offspring has feelings akin to those 
which must inspire the angels in Heaven. 

Just after the little bodies were laid away for 
their eternal rest there came a letter from Jack 
Larrabee. He had made his “ pile ” and a big 
one too, he said, and he was going to settle down 
in ’Frisco. He had bought a hotel but wanted 


A GENTILE HOME 


i7 


a partner to run it. Wouldn’t Maddy come out 
and take hold with him. There was another 
fortune in the business. Then the wanderlust 
fever struck Madison again. He asked his wife 
if she would go with him, and her answer was, 
“ I will go where you go, Maddy.” He made his 
preparations at once. Before leaving he gave his 
father three thousand dollars and each of his 
brothers five hundred. He offered Mr. Somerby 
a thousand, but the old gentleman refused it. 

“ Ye can give it to ’Cilly, if you want ter, but 
me and mother have got enough for all our 
wants.” 

But Priscilla, too, refused the donation. 

“ I’ve never been beholden to anybody and I 
don’t mean to be.” 

“ But your father supports you,” argued Madi- 
son. 

“ Does he? ” queried Priscilla sharply. “ I’ve 
done most of the house work and some farm work 
for years and father says I’m worth more than 
my board and clothes. But if you are so rich you 
must give some money away, there’s my brother, 
John, with a large family — ” 

“ That settles it,” said Madison. “ John shall 
have the money.” 

The good-bys were said and Madison and 


1 8 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

Melissa sailed away never to see the old homes 
and their parents again. We read that the 
builders of the Tower of Babel were separated 
and sent in all directions to the farthermost parts 
of the earth; but if all those who have left home 
and parents in search of fame and fortune were 
gathered together, the builders of the Tower would 
compare with that multitude as does a mole-hill 
with a mountain. 

Jack’s hotel was roughly made, but it was large 
and roomy. Melissa was charmed with the 
sunny, flower-laden country and the new, active 
life. She was a fine cook and a good manager, 
and Larrabee’s never ran short of patrons. 

But Madison had not found his right vocation 
yet. He had been a smart scholar, and while 
living at Mr. Somerby’s had written many articles 
for the country newspaper. He was not of much 
service at the hotel, for Melissa ran the estab- 
lishment and he did not like to take orders from 
her, — he, an independent gentleman of means. 
Fie told his wife she was working too hard; that 
he would build a house and they would have a 
home of their own. This plan would have been 
followed, but an acquaintance had started a news- 
paper called The Golden Gate Gazette, and asked 
Madison to become one of its editors. So the 


A GENTILE HOME 


i9 

home-building was postponed and Madison found 
the path in life which suited him and for which 
he was suited. 

In the latter part of the year 1889 a gentleman 
was seated at his desk in Salt Lake City in the 
Territory of Utah. On the desk before him was 
the latest edition of a newspaper called The Salt 
Lake Star . If we look over his shoulder, as he 
examines the pages, we shall see at the top of the 
fourth page a line which reads, “ Madison Bri- 
ant, Editor-in-Chief.” We will follow him to his 
home, a fine mansion on Second South Street, and 
meet his wife and children. Melissa, when we 
first met her, a healthy country girl, then an 
active business woman, now an invalid, with an 
incurable disease. There is a son, a youth of 
sixteen, named Franklin. His father had wished 
to name him Van Buren and keep up the presiden- 
tial succession, but his wife objected. She thought 
Benjamin Franklin the greatest American that 
the country had produced (as many others do) and 
that name had been given to the boy. A girl of 
fourteen, named Gertrude, completed the family 
roster. 

And what is this son of Connecticut, with his 
New England idea of the proper relation of men 


20 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

and women as regards marriage, doing in this 
home of the Latter Day Saints? He has no 
sympathy with those who believe in and practice 
polygamy. This is a Gentile home. The father 
says grace before meals; on Sundays he and his 
family (his wife when able) attend divine service 
in the Presbyterian Church. 

In this home is the New England atmosphere, 
— a beloved wife, more dearly loved now that 
her stay on earth may soon end, children who 
know a father’s and a mother’s love. There is 
no mystery about life in this Gentile home. To 
friends and acquaintances, “ This is my wife, 
my son, my daughter.” He has no “ other 
house.” After supper the father, mother, and 
children meet in the parlor for an hour of com- 
panionship. When the children were younger 
this was called children’s hour, and both Frank- 
lin and Gertrude knew Longfellow’s poems by 
heart. Six days in the week Madison Briant sat 
at his desk and wrote editorials upon the live 
topics of the day. The one to which he gave the 
most attention was that of polygamy, — the system 
of plural or “ celestial ” marriage, — which 
formed a fundamental feature of the Mormon re- 
ligion. Against that system, which he deemed im- 
moral and degrading both to the men and the 


A GENTILE HOME 


21 


women who practiced it, he wrote continually, — 
using history, argument, sarcasm, even supplica- 
tion, that the evil might be removed from the 
land. 

We have seen a Gentile in his Home; we will 
now visit a Mormon in his House; for that cannot 
be called a Home, which has several wives, with 
a separate house for each, and only one husband. 
Could he answer, if asked which was his home? 


CHAPTER II 


A MORMON HOUSE 

J ASON ORME was born in Vermont, the State 
from which Joseph Smith went, a poor boy, 
to become later a prophet, and the founder of a 
religion. From the same State came Brigham 
Young, who was destined to take up Smith’s 
work and found a State, with the new religion as 
its bulwark. Smith was born in central Vermont 
near the Connecticut river; Young, in the southern 
part of the State, near the Massachusetts line, 
while Orme’s birthplace was in the far north, only 
a few miles from Canada. His father, Barnard 
Orme, was a man of gigantic stature and pro- 
digious strength. His farm was large, but much 
of it was barren soil and gave but a meager liv- 
ing to the family of four sons, of whom Jason 
was the youngest. His three brothers had mar- 
ried and forsaken their parents, leaving Jason, a 
boy of ten, as their only helper. 

Barnard Orme became discouraged and sought 
that complaisant but deadly friend that stupefies 
sensations, but increases rather than removes, the 


22 


A MORMON HOUSE 


23 

causes of trouble. With liquor in the house, the 
overworked, disheartened wife became a devotee. 
Then came a quarrel, which ended in the mother’s 
death. When the husband came to his senses and 
realized the crime that he had committed he fled 
to the woods, despite the storm of snow and the in- 
tense cold that followed it. 

Jason had never been to school, but he had 
that inborn shrewdness which often wins in an 
encounter with mere knowledge of books. He 
was innocent of his mother’s death, but suspicion 
might fall on him. Taking some food, he started 
West not knowing or caring where his path 
might lead. Months later, when the snow melted, 
the body of his father was found, and near him 
the blood-stained ax with which the deed had 
been committed. 

The youth walked on, begging food when he 
could not get work. At last he came to the town 
of Palmyra, in the State of New York. There 
was great excitement in the place. A young man 
named Joseph Smith had discovered some golden 
plates, the location of which had been pointed out 
to him by an angel from Heaven. Smith even 
asserted that he had been visited twice by God 
and His son Jesus, and that he had been told to 
go out into the world and preach a New Dis- 


24 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


pensation, — that Christ was coming to reign over 
the world, and that Smith must prepare the King- 
dom on Earth for him. His assertions were met 
with ridicule and open hostility; but he persevered. 
He was uneducated, and the plates were written in 
a language that no one could read. But, as he 
said, the angel gave him a glass that enabled him 
not only to read but to translate into English 
whatever was engraved on the plates, and an edi- 
tion of the “ Book of Mormon ” was published 
and distributed. Smith was considered to be an- 
other Baron Munchhausen, and the Book was de- 
clared to be founded upon a story written by an 
eccentric clergyman named Solomon Spalding. 
The Mormons denied this, but it was not until 
1884 that the original manuscript of Spalding’s 
work was found and shown to be entirely differ- 
ent from Smith’s translation of the plates. 

Young Orme learned that Smith was from Ver- 
mont, as was also a young man named Brigham 
Young, who had become one of Smith’s adherents. 
To them he told his story, and he was urged to 
join them. He had no home, no friends, no hope 
in life. To him had come friends, a home on 
earth, and a future home in Heaven. He em- 
braced the new faith with all the ardor of youth. 
He was naked and they gave him clothes; he was 


A MORMON HOUSE 


25 

hungry and they gave him food; he had no hope 
and they held out to him a promise of happiness, 
for all eternity, in Heaven. 

One of Jason Orme’s houses in Salt Lake City 
was in the northern part. He had three other 
houses, for he was a polygamist and the husband 
of four wives. Since the passage of the United 
States law against polygamy he had been obliged 
to break up what was, in reality, a harem, and 
segregate his wives in separate houses. He was 
a wealthy man and could afford this. In fact, it 
was the possession of money that encouraged and 
sustained polygamy. The poor Mormon had to 
be satisfied with one wife, not because he did not 
wish to live up fully to the tenets of his Church, 
but because he was unable to support more than 
one. 

One of Jason Orme’s plural wives lived in the 
house provided for her with her only child, a 
daughter named Flora. She was Jason’s young- 
est wife. A beautiful woman when sealed to 
Jason, a man of sixty, her daughter possessed 
more than her mother’s lovely physical charms. 
A blonde, with the golden hair, blue eyes, and 
peach-like complexion that distinguishes such of 
her sex, she was “ a thing of beauty.” 


2 6 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


Flora had been born and had lived until she 
was eleven years old in the richly furnished home 
inhabited by the four wives. Since the enforced 
exodus her mother and she had lived in a small 
house comfortably but inexpensively furnished; 
and she often wondered, child-like, why her 
mother, so much younger and prettier than his 
father’s other wives, should have so poor a house. 
Her father had ten sons and five other daughters, 
but since the segregation, she had seen them sel- 
dom. 

“ Mother, why doesn’t father come to see you 
oftener?” asked Flora. 

“ He is very busy with his Church work. He 
has been made one of the Twelve Apostles.” 

“ He is your husband now, isn’t he? ” persisted 
Flora, with the natural curiosity of a child of 
fourteen. 

“ Certainly, child, when we were sealed it was 
for time and all eternity.” 

“ Did the Prophet — you know whom I mean 
— Brigham Young, have as many wives and chil- 
dren as father? ” 

“ More, many more. During his life he had 
seventeen wives and fifty-six children.” 

“Wasn’t that horrid!” exclaimed Flora im- 
pulsively. 


A MORMON HOUSE 


27 

“ Hush, child, you must not criticise God’s vice- 
gerent on earth. He only followed the precepts 
of our religion and of the Bible, which commands 
the children of God to increase and multiply.” 

“ Mother, when I grow up, shall I have to 
marry a man who has other wives? ” 

“ That will be as God wills. He says we must 
be content with the condition in which we are 
placed.” 

Flora did not reply, but she remembered that 
she had read the same words in a book that Ger- 
trude Briant had lent to her. She had hidden it 
in her room and read it at night after her 
mother was asleep. The title was “ Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin,” and the language that her mother had 
used had been applied to the African slaves. 

Finally, she looked up and said, “ Mother, I’ll 
make my husband so happy he won’t want an- 
other wife.” 

“You are too young to understand, Flora. We 
who are sealed to living husbands are to become 
the daughters of Heaven, and live for all eternity 
with them. It is every man’s duty, the Church 
commands it, that he should thus open the portals 
of bliss for as many wives as he can support in 
this world.” 

Flora had been brought up strictly, according to 


28 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

the rules and beliefs of the Mormon Church; but 
she had seen her mother’s lonely life, and in- 
wardly rebelled against a religious system that 
made a woman a wife, while a law made by man 
prevented him from acknowledging her and liv- 
ing in the same house with her. Where she and 
her mother lived was not a home — it was only 
a house. She had often contrasted it with the 
home of Gertrude Briant. On one occasion she 
had been present during the hour spent by Mr. 
Briant with his wife and children. She had seen 
his love and tenderness for them, and a great 
want surged into her heart for a father’s love, 
and a husband’s love and care for her mother. 

Intuitively she reasoned that something was 
wrong with her religion, but she dared not speak 
of it to her mother. Even in the book that 
Gertrude had lent to her, the one about the poor 
slave who was beaten to death by his cruel owner, 
she had been taken to happy homes, even among 
the lowly slaves. To her childish reasoning it 
seemed as wrong for a husband to put away his 
wife and child, and neglect them, as it was for a 
slave-owner to sell a mother to one person and 
her child to another; for when she, herself, should 
become a wife she would be separated from her 
mother. To her mind came a dim recognition 


A MORMON HOUSE 


29 

of the resemblance between Mormon polygamy 
and African slavery. That recognition was to be- 
come brighter as she became older. 

She wondered if Uncle Tom was more unhappy 
as a slave than she would be as the wife of a 
man who had other wives. He had told his 
brutal master that he could take his life but he 
would not sell his soul. Could she save her soul 
if she became a plural wife? To whom could she 
turn for comfort — in whom could she confide ? 

In one of her rambling walks she had met a 
young man. Her hat had been blown off by a 
stiff breeze and he had rescued and returned it. 
He was a Gentile. He had told her his name was 
Franklin Briant. He had asked hers and she had 
said, simply, “ Flora.” Her mother had cau- 
tioned her not to mention her father’s name. 
That meeting had led to another, not so acci- 
dental, and to her acquaintance with his sister, the 
loan of the prohibited book, its midnight perusal, 
and a heart full of uncertainty and misgivings. 


CHAPTER III 


LOVE MISPLACED 

Tj'RANKLIN BRIANT was about to open the 
portieres and enter the room where his father 
was sitting by the couch upon which his mother 
lay when his ear caught the name “ Flora.’* He 
stopped and listened, looking back to see if he 
were observed. 

His father was still speaking. “ Yes, Melie, 
I think it is a shame that such a beautiful girl as 
Flora Orme should one day be forced to marry 
some long-bearded old bishop or apostle, and 
maybe only a plural wife at that.” 

Mrs. Briant replied. “Yes, she is a beautiful 
girl. I’m glad she doesn’t come here very often. 
I’m afraid Frank will fall in love with her. How 
did you find out her last name? Frank said the 
only name she gave him was Flora.” 

“ Her mother is one of Jason Orme’s plural 
wives. I’ll tell you how I found out. Tom Harrod, 
who keeps the big market, is a Mormon; but he 
is willing to sell to Gentiles, so he advertises in 
our paper. I went in the other morning while 
30 


LOVE MISPLACED 


3i 

he was busy filling an order. His back was 
turned to me and he didn’t hear me come in. 
‘ That’s for Mrs. Jason Orme,’ said he, as he 
passed the bundle to his assistant. The fellow 
must have winked, for Harrod turned suddenly 
and saw me. Then he said, sharply: ‘ You heard 
what I said, Williams? — that is for Sister 
Florence.’ ‘Where does she live?’ asked Wil- 
liam. ‘ On Sixth North street, last house on the 
right,’ and then Harrod said he was at my serv- 
ice.” 

“ But that didn’t tell you that Flora was sister 
Florence’s daughter.” 

“No; but a week ago I was driving through 
Sixth North street and I saw Flora come out of 
that last house on the right.” 

Franklin waited to hear no more but burst into 
the room as if he had just arrived. 

“ Say, Dad, I’m feeling rusty. This is a fine 
day, and if you are willing, I won’t go back to the 
office but take a tramp instead.” 

“ All right, Frank,” said his father, “ but keep 
out of the Endowment House.” He laughed as 
he uttered the words. 

Franklin thanked him, and turned to leave the 
room, but as he drew aside the portiere, he said, 
“ I’m no Mormon, and I shan’t go there for a 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


32 

wife when the time comes for me to have one.” 

“ You heard that, mother? Don’t worry about 
Frank’s falling in love with Flora. He admires 
her for her beauty, as I do myself, but he’ll marry 
a Gentile when the time comes.” 

His wife changed the subject. “Are you go- 
ing to make an editor out of Frank?” 

“ No. He doesn’t take to the business — any 
part of it. He wants to be a lawyer. What do 
you think of this idea, — sending him East to col- 
lege and then to law school? ” 

“ I wish you would, Maddy. You can afford 
it, and although I shall miss him dreadfully, he 
must have a vocation in life.” 

“ I had to drift into mine,” remarked her hus- 
band. “ Now that you approve it, I’ll give the 
idea more thought.” 

He had no fear that his son would fall in 
love with a Mormon girl, even if she were beauti- 
ful; but his wife, as she lay alone, could not get 
rid of the presentiment that her son’s name and 
that of Flora Orme were to be linked together, 
in some unknown way, in the future. 

Could the mother have followed her son, she 
would have had good reason for her presentiment. 
Franklin turned his steps to the North and kept 
a straight line ahead until he came to Sixth 


LOVE MISPLACED 


33 

street. Into this he turned and walked slowly 
along until he came to the last house on the right. 
Without hesitation, he rapped upon the door 
which, after some delay, was opened by Flora 
herself. Without waiting for an invitation to 
enter he stepped in and closed the door behind 
him. 

“Where is your mother? I wish to see her 
alone.” 

Flora opened a door and disclosed her mother 
seated in a chair at the back of the room. 

“ Pardon me, Flora, I will see you before I 
go and explain why I am here.” 

He entered the room and closed the door behind 
him. 

“ Do I address Mrs. Florence Orme? ” 

“ My name is Sister Florence.” 

“ You are Flora’s mother? ” 

No answer was given to the question. 

Franklin was not disconcerted, but went on : 

“ My name is Franklin Briant. My father is 
editor of the Star . You, no doubt, have heard of 
him.” 

Still no reply. Her husband had told her that 
Madison Briant was a foe to the Mormon Church, 
but that God would punish him eventually, to the 
glory of the Saints. 


34 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ I came to ask you a question. Do Mormon 
girls ever marry Gentiles? ” 

“ Not unless they become apostates and are 
excommunicated. Then they are no longer Mor- 
mons.” 

“ But Protestants sometimes marry Catholics. 
The high priest gives a dispensation, I think they 
call it.” 

“ The Mormon Church does not give its chil- 
dren to unbelievers. But why this strange ques- 
tion?” 

“ I have met your daughter Flora a number of 
times, — the first time by accident. I am too 
young to marry yet and so is she; but I have fallen 
in love with her, and as I am what you call a 
Gentile, I thought it was only square and honest 
to come and tell you before I asked her to be 
my wife.” 

Sister Florence smiled — such assurance in a 
beardless boy, and he the son of his father, the 
Church’s enemy. Then her expressions became 
stern. 

“ That can never be, Mr. Briant. Your 
father would cast you off. I would never con- 
sent, nor would our Church. In only one way 
could she become your wife, — if you joined our 
Church.” 


LOVE MISPLACED 


35 


“ I won’t do that,” said Franklin, doggedly. 

“ For my daughter’s sake, Mr. Briant, — I may 
say out of regard for your own safety, — see my 
daughter no more. If you do, I shall appeal to 
your father.” 

“ My father won’t interfere.” 

“ You may disobey your father, but my daugh- 
ter will obey her mother.” She called loudly, 
“ Flora ! Flora ! ” 

The girl entered the room. 

“ Flora, Mr. Briant has come to say good-by. 
He is going away and you will never see him 
again.” 

The girl stood speechless. 

Franklin stepped forward and took both her 
hands in his. He pressed them warmly and Flora 
felt something in the palm of her hand. She 
closed her hand upon it nervously. 

“ Now go to your room, Flora. I will see Mr. 
Briant to the door.” 

When Flora reached her room she unfolded the 
scrap of paper, on which was a time and a place 
appointed for their meeting the next day. 

The next morning Sister Florence did two 
things that seemed very strange to her daughter. 
She wrote a letter, then she went out and mailed it, 
refusing Flora’s proffered service. That after- 


36 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

noon Editor Briant received a letter which aston- 
ished him greatly. It read: 


“ Mr. Madison Briant : 

“Your son Franklin has met several times the Mormon girl 
named Flora. Yesterday afternoon he called at her residence 
on Sixth North street. Is this with your knowledge and con- 
sent? If not prevented, it may cause an innocent girl much 
sorrow. 

“A Mormon Mother.” 


That evening he placed the letter in his wife’s 
hands, with the words: “From her mother. 
She’s a lady.” 

Mrs. Briant read the letter. As she handed 
it back to him, she said, “And Franklin?” 

“ Goes to college as soon as arrangements can 
be made.” 

“ Shall you mention the letter to him? ” 

“ Not a word,” and he tore it into small pieces. 

“ To do so would only develop antagonism. I 
will even appear to be his accomplice.” 

“How so? You do not mean it?” 

“ Oh, yes. He would not like to write to her 
at her home, for her mother would know it. I 
will tell him if he wishes to write to any one in 
this city to send the letters, under cover, to me.” 

“ Maddy, will that be honest? ” 


LOVE MISPLACED 


37 

“ It will be effective, and that is the main thing 
in such a case.” 

Sister Florence felt sure that Mr. Briant would 
control his son’s love-affairs, during his minority 
at least, so she offered no objection to Flora’s 
taking her usual walk. For herself, going out had 
no attraction. She would not visit any of her 
husband’s other houses and her father lived too 
far away for her to see him without making a 
journey. Her own mother was dead and she, nat- 
urally, had no filial affection for her father’s three 
living wives. 

The home is said to be the foundation of our 
nation, but that is not a home when it is halved, 
cut into three pieces, quartered, or more minutely 
subdivided. A Mormon child can truly say, with- 
out blasphemy, that “ in my father’s house are 
many mansions.” 

Flora had destroyed the piece of paper that 
Franklin had left in her hand, but the written 
words were held fast in her memory. She walked 
listlessly about, for the time fixed for the meet- 
ing had not yet arrived. She was leaning against 
a fence that enclosed a thriving orchard when a 
closed carriage, that was being driven swiftly, 
came to a sudden stop before where she was stand- 
ing. A voice from within said, 


38 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ Flora.” 

She sprang forward with a glad cry. 

“ Franklin.” 

She recoiled, and her cheeks paled when a face 
appeared at the carriage window. 

It was her father! Perhaps he had not heard 
the name she had spoken; perhaps he did hear, 
but attached no particular significance to it. But 
her manifest trepidation and whitened cheek could 
not escape his attention. It did not, but he asked 
no questions and made no comment. He opened 
the carriage door. 

“ Come in.” 

Flora could not refuse and she took a seat be- 
side him. 

“ You were taking your morning walk. You 
were resting. You must not walk until you are 
tired. I am glad I saw you in time to stop. I 
am on my way to visit a poor girl, about your 
own age, who has become an orphan. You must 
come with me and comfort her in her great sor- 
row.” 

Flora could not speak. Franklin would wait 
for her. What would he think? It would be 
the last time she could see him. He was going 
away. Her mother had said she would never see 
him again. She could not bear that. She must 


LOVE MISPLACED 


39 

see him and learn where he was going. He would 
write to her and she would write to him. Then 
a comforting thought came to her. He would 
think her mother would not allow her to go out. 
He would know it was not her fault, and he would 
find some way of meeting her again. The color 
came back to her cheeks, and the heart-beats that 
had been so quickened became normal again. 

“ You will go? ” Framed as a question, it was 
spoken in a tone of command. 

“ Why, certainly, I will go, father. I was 
thinking how sadly I should feel, if my mother 
were dead.” 

“ You would have a father, and this poor girl 
has not a living relative in this country. Her 
mother came from England. Her father joined 
our Church, not from love of God, but to further 
his earthly interests. He was not a Mormon 
at heart. He would never take but one wife.” 

He gave the word to drive on, and they went 
South far beyond the city limits. At length they 
drew up before a weather-beaten cottage. Not 
a house in sight — the only view a drear expanse 
of grass-land. They entered the house; the 
dilapidated condition of the outside was in keep- 
ing with the abject poverty of the interior. 
Flora’s sympathies were excited. Her mother’s 


4 o THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

house was not so fine as the one in which she had 
passed her younger days, but it was a palace com- 
pared with this hovel. How happy the orphan 
girl would be to leave this place and live with 
them. 

A young girl came into the room. 

“ Flora, this is Hilda Bond,” said her father. 

For a moment Flora did not speak. This 
orphan girl, so poor in her surorundings, yet had 
a surname, while she had none — she was only 
“ Flora.” 

By her caresses and her cheering words she 
made up for her apparent cold demeanor. Then 
she looked at the girl. She was tall and straight. 
Her every movement showed strength and sup- 
pleness. She had dark hair and eyes and a skin 
which, naturally olive in tint, had been so browned 
by exposure that it needed but a gaudy Roman 
scarf to make her a daughter of sunny Italy. 

And Hilda looked at the vision of blue, and 
red, and gold before her. She had loved her 
father and mother — only them. Was there a 
place in her heart for this doll? — for to Hilda’s 
strong nature Flora seemed like one. 

Jason Orme spoke to Hilda. “You are to 
live with Flora and her mother. I will see you 
again in a few days when I have made arrange- 


LOVE MISPLACED 


4i 

ments. Come, Flora, I have an appointment with 
the President.” 

Flora kissed Hilda, who submitted, passively, 
to the caress. She had not spoken a word dur- 
ing the visit. 

“Mother and I will try to make you happy,” 
were Flora’s parting words. 

Then Hilda spoke. u There has been little 
happiness in my life.” 

When they reached the place where Flora had 
rested against the orchard fence, the carriage came 
to a stop and her father made a sign for her to 
alight. She walked slowly home. She forgot 
Hilda, her sorrow, and her poverty. Her 
thoughts were only of Franklin. Should she see 
him again — and when and where? 


CHAPTER IV 


A VISIT IN THE NIGHT 

T7L0RA told her mother of her meeting with 
A her father and their visit to Hilda. She 
dwelt upon the girl’s beauty, the shabby-looking 
house, the poverty-stricken interior, and the 
dreary surroundings. The mother was glad that 
her daughter was to have a companion of her own 
sex and faith; it would help her to forget her 
sinful love for an unbeliever, the son of an avowed 
enemy. 

“ Did your father ask after me? ” 

A life of secrecy leads to dissimulation. Flora 
was honest, but she did not wish to hurt her 
mother’s feelings. She knew her father had said 
nothing about her mother, so she replied, 

“ I told him you were well.” 

The mother sighed. A child who could deceive 
her as Flora had done in regard to her rela- 
tions with Franklin Briant would not hesitate to 
do so in such a minor matter. 

The night was dark and a heavy rain was fall- 

42 


A VISIT IN THE NIGHT 


43 

mg. A man wearing an overcoat that reached 
nearly to his feet, and with an umbrella drawn 
closely down over his head, turned into the Sixth 
North street and stopped at the last house on 
the right. It was eleven o’clock. No lights were 
burning in the house. The man rapped upon the 
door. Sister Florence was awake. She opened 
the window. 

“ Who is there? ” 

“ Jason.” 

She dressed quickly and opened the door to 
admit her husband, whom she had not seen for 
three months, and then only in the presence of 
others. 

“ Did Flora tell you of our visit to the orphan 
girl? ” 

“ Yes, and she spoke of her miserable home 
and its surroundings.” 

“ Her father’s fault. He might have had 
preferment in the Church, but he was obstinate 
and refused to take another wife. His life was 
a failure, for God does not prosper those who 
reject his teachings.” 

Sister Florence knew the inner meaning of 
those last words. Hilda’s father had been ostra- 
cized, his business taken away from him, but his 
spirit would not break. He had died, as his wife 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


44 

had, true to the faith as they saw it, not as others 
wished to force them to see it. They had the 
spirit that makes martyrs — and always will. 

“If you will go with Flora to where I met her 
this morning, I will come with the carriage and 
take you to see Hilda. I will not force her com- 
pany upon you, unless you are willing to have her 
live with you.” 

“ Flora likes her and that is sufficient,” said his 
wife. 

“ I prefer to have you see her,” was the reply, 
“ and shall expect you to meet me to-morrow morn- 
ing, if it is pleasant. If it rains, I will come to 
the house for you.” 

“ Are you going out again to-night? ” asked his 
wife. “ It is very late, and the storm is a severe 
one.” 

“ I must go. Maria’s baby is sick and I must 
help her care for it.” 

Sister Florence said no more. Maria was the 
plural wife who had taken her place — had driven 
her and her child from her home. 

Women go into the divorce courts because their 
husbands have been seen in the company of other 
women, or love-letters have been found in their 
husband’s pockets. Their feelings are outraged, 
the marriage vows have been broken, and they 


A VISIT IN THE NIGHT 


45 

demand their freedom. But how slight are their 
injuries compared with those of a Mormon wife 
who is driven from her home, knows that another 
woman has taken her place, yet is bound “ for time 
and all eternity ” to the man by ties that no 
human court can sever. 

Great must be the religious faith that can sus- 
tain them under such a trial. Yet, perhaps, by 
education and environment the natural inclina- 
tion to personal possession is so perverted that 
what seems a moral wrong to others appears 
natural and proper to them. But, as in the great- 
est criminal a spark of divinity is left, so in the 
hearts of many Mormon wives there must be an 
objection to the divided affection of a husband 
and their isolation to make room for a plural 
wife, probably younger and fairer, while they who 
have borne him children have faded with these 
flowerings of their love. 

Jason Orme, in his long overcoat, with the um- 
brella covering his face, made his way to the 
other home, where lived his wife Maria and her 
sick child. Sister Florence went back to her 
lonely bed and her pillow was wet with her tears, 
even as the slave mother wept when her child was 
torn from her arms and sold to another master. 

The storm had not abated the next morning, and 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


4 6 

Jason Orme came to the last house on the right 
in his closed carriage. Hilda greeted Flora and 
her mother pleasantly, but not effusively. There 
was a reserve, a dignity, about her, which suited 
those dark eyes and that firm mouth and repelled 
familiarity in others. 

Jason Orme said he must go back to the city. 

“ I will leave you here to get acquainted. I 
will come for you as soon as my duties will per- 
mit.” 

Neither Flora nor her mother cared to examine 
the house. Why should they, when Hilda was 
to go and live with them? The afternoon wore 
away and the evening came. The rain had ceased, 
but the sky was still clouded. Hilda was a good 
cook, and the luncheon and the supper were ap- 
petizing. 

It was nine o’clock. 

“ Shall we have to stay here all night? ” Flora 
asked her mother. 

“ He must have been very busy,” was the re- 
ply. “ He will come for us to-morrow.” 

The next morning a wagon was driven to the 
door. In it were beds and bedding, household 
goods, food, and every article of a personal na- 
ture belonging to Flora or her mother. As they 
were being unloaded, Flora’s heart sank. This 


A VISIT IN THE NIGHT 


47 

was to be her home! Her mother said nothing. 
She had been exiled before and had lived. This 
was but a repetition of a former experience, but 
her heart bled for her daughter. 

But she could not help thinking, “ Why was it 
done?” Was her husband going to take an- 
other wife? He was nearly eighty years old, but 
men even older had taken plural wives. Then 
she thought of Franklin Briant. Perhaps his 
father had written to or seen her husband, and 
the change had been made to remove Flora be- 
yond her lover’s reach. She had told her daugh- 
ter that Franklin was going away, but that re- 
mark had been the invention of the moment, — a 
reason for his saying good-by, — but she had 
no knowledge that he was not to remain at 
home. 

Yes, this new isolation was on her daughter’s 
account, but she must not know that. Perhaps 
their stay would be only temporary, and they 
would soon return to their old home. 

Hilda said nothing to indicate surprise. 

“ It will be quite homelike when we get things 
put in place,” she said to Flora, “ and when the 
grass is green and the peach trees in the garden 
are budded it is very pleasant here. The house 
needs paint and repairs, but father was too poor 


48 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

to fix the place up. No doubt the new owner 
will do it — he rides in his carriage.” 

Flora started. Did not this orphan know that 
the new owner was her father, that her mother 
Was his wife? Well, let it be so. She would 
not explain, but Hilda’s pleasant words called for 
some recognition. 

“ We must all do our best to make things look 
pretty and be happy.” 

But as she spoke she thought of Franklin. 
Never could she be happy? He would not know 
where she was. Then the thought came to her 
that perhaps her meetings with Franklin had been 
noticed, and her father had been told. Yes, that 
was it, and her mother was made to suffer on 
her account. She must love and comfort her, 
and care for her more than ever. So mother and 
daughter each carried the same secret in her heart, 
but neither dared to confide in the other. 


CHAPTER V 


THE MANIFESTO 

'G'OR several years previous to the opening of 
this story the Mormons in Utah had under- 
gone great trials and suffering, in many cases not 
undeserved. A drastic law against polygamy had 
been passed by the National Congress and, in ac- 
cordance with its provisions, the leading polyg- 
amists were arrested and fined or thrown into 
prison. Mormon families were broken up and 
fathers, wives, and children sought safety in flight. 
Before the Civil War the slaves sought freedom 
in the North by what was called “ the under- 
ground.” During the “ raid ” against the Mor- 
mons that word came again into use, but there 
was no friendly North to which they could fly. 
The Church property was seized by United States 
marshals, and the Mormon men and women were 
disfranchised. 

But there was a Moses to lead them back to 
peace and prosperity in their own land. He was 
a young man, a Mormon, not a polygamist, whose 
father was a high authority in the Church. He 
49 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


50 

had been to Washington and secured the return 
of the Church property. He had just arrived 
from another visit to the Capital on the day that 
Jason Orme took his wife and daughter to Hilda 
Bond’s house. A council had been called by the 
President to hear his report and the young man’s 
father formed one of the council. 

The young man said that the Government 
would relax its severity upon one condition only, 
— the practice of polygamy and other illegal 
domestic relations must be stopped. 

“ But,” said the President, “ we practice the 
system of plural marriage in accordance with a 
Revelation from God. How can man set aside 
the commands of the Almighty? ” 

That remark seemed to settle the question with- 
out further consideration. No member of that 
Council would set himself up against the word of 
God, not if his life depended upon it. 

No one spoke, but all looked at the young man 
to see what answer he could give to such an un- 
answerable proposition. He looked about the 
room and saw a kindly, inquiring glance in his 
father’s eye. 

The young man drew himself up to his full 
stature and spoke with clear, ringing tones. 

“ If polygamy is practiced in accordance with 


THE MANIFESTO 


S* 

a Revelation from God, the only way in which it 
can be stopped is by a Revelation, from the same 
High Power, prohibiting it in the future.” 

A murmur of astonishment and dissent came 
from the members of the Council. There was 
silence for a time, then an aged apostle said: 

“ If such a Revelation should come, and plural 
marriage be forbidden by God in the future, 
would the Government at Washington oblige us, 
who have plural wives, to separate from them en- 
tirely? ” 

The young man replied, “ The Government de- 
mands that and will be satisfied with nothing 
less.” 

One of the Council said, “ What God has 
joined together let no man put asunder,” and 
many bowed their heads or spoke in assent. 

The President said he would await a Revela- 
tion from Above. If one came, they would be 
called together again to hear it. A few days 
after the Council dissolved the President sent for 
the young man. 

“ I have prayed to the Lord for guidance and 
a means of deliverance from the burdens placed 
upon us by evil men. He counsels us to * be 
obedient to the powers that are.’ I have put His 
Revelation into this form,” and he read: 


52 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day 
Saints has not been solemnizing plural marriages 
of late, and, by a Revelation from God, the faith- 
ful are advised to refrain from contracting any 
marriages forbidden by the law of the land.” 

The young man asked, 

“ Does that mean the giving up of polygamy 
entirely? ” 

The President replied: 

“ Why, of course it does. Isn’t that what the 
Government wants us to do?” 

“ Not only that,” said the young man, “ it de- 
mands that illicit domestic relations shall also 
cease.” 

There was a shrewd look in the President’s 
face as he asked, 

“ Have they been stopped in other parts of the 
country? ” 

“ We are in a different position,” was the re- 
ply. “ The other States regulate such matters in 
their own way. Utah is a territory and governed 
by the laws of the United States.” 

“ Utah ought to be a sovereign State,” said 
the President reflectively. 

“ It can be,” the young man replied, “ as soon 
as it conforms to existing laws.” 

“ I will call the Council together and tell them 


THE MANIFESTO 


53 

what God has revealed to me,” said the Presi- 
dent. 

This was done. The Revelation was accepted 
by the Council as the Word of God. The Reve- 
lation was sent to the different “ Stakes of Zion,” 
which gave their adherence. When all was fin- 
ished, word was flashed around the world and into 
every city, town, village, and hamlet in Mormon- 
dom that there were to be no more plural mar- 
riages. Abraham Lincoln, with his Proclamation 
of Emancipation, had removed the shackles from 
imillions of slaves. God, by His Revelation, had 
freed the Mormon women from their bondage, 
and had turned the Mormon HOUSE into a 
HOME! 


CHAPTER VI 


MORMON HOUSEHOLDS 

CEVERAL weeks passed before Hilda’s reserve 
was broken through. She was pleasant to 
Flora, but not companionable. Mrs. Orme No. 
4, or, as she was always called, “ Sister Florence,” 
took upon herself all the housekeeping duties and 
cares. Flora said nothing, because she knew her 
mother was happier when busy. It was Hilda 
who remonstrated. 

“ Here are we, two young, healthy girls, and 
we sit around and allow your mother to do all 
the work. It isn’t right, and I can’t stand it 
any longer.” 

Then she said decidedly, 

“ Sister Florence, Flora and I have combined 
against you.” 

The mother looked up, surprised at this decla- 
ration. 

Hilda went on: 

“ You may do the cooking, because I like nice 
things to eat, but don’t know how to make them 
as good as you do. But we two are going to 
54 


MORMON HOUSEHOLDS 


55 

wash the dishes, and sweep and dust, and do 
everything else. And when your work is done 
you are to sit down and be the lady.” 

The mother objected, but was laughingly over- 
ruled. Time hung heavy on her hands and she 
begged to be allowed to do more. Flora would 
have yielded, for it would be better for her to 
work than to sit with hands folded and think of 
her unhappy past, and the future that promised 
no relief. But Hilda solved the question. 

“ Before my father joined the Church he had 
many books. They are locked up in the room 
up-stairs. I will get them. You can read them 
when you are at leisure, and in the evenings you 
can read to us the good things you have found 
during the day.” 

The books were brought down and hidden in 
a closet, for the block teachers might come any 
day and catechise them as to their firmness in 
the faith. From early youth Mormon children 
are taken in charge by their spiritual teachers and 
advisers, and that supervision is never relaxed. 
The child of six and the man of eighty must 
prove their soundness in the creed by words and 
works. 

Among the books was a large family Bible and 
the mother read it incessantly. 


56 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

One evening Hilda said: 

“ You have been reading that book for several 
days. Have you found anything to interest us? ’ 

“ I have found much, but little that is com- 
forting to one in our position. I find in Exodus 
five beautiful words, — 1 The wife of thy bosom.’ ” 

Her voice broke and she was silent for a mo- 
ment — then she added: 

“ But in another place it said, ‘ No man knew 
who was his father.’ ” 

“ There are a good many children in Utah 
who are as badly off as that man,” said 
Hilda. 

“ Does it say anything about plural marriage? ” 
asked Flora. 

Her mother replied: “There is much in this 
book to sustain the practice of polygamy. Here 
is one passage in Isaiah, * In that day seven 
women shall take hold of one man.’ ” 

“ Why,” exclaimed Hilda, “ that is worse than 
the Mahometans. They are allowed only four 
wives, and those only if the man is rich; poor men 
can have only one wife. I hope my husband will 
be poor.” 

“ And so do I,” Flora whispered. 

“ I find in what is called the New Testament, 
in Matthew, what seems to be a new dispensation. 


MORMON HOUSEHOLDS 


57 

I will read it to you,” and she opened the book 
where she had put a piece of paper to mark the 
place. 

“ ‘And he answered and said unto them, Have 
ye not read, that He which made them at the be- 
ginning made them male and female, 

“ ‘ And said, for this cause shall a man leave 
father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife; 
and they twain shall be one flesh? 

“ ‘ Wherefore they are no more twain, but one 
flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, 
let not man put asunder.’ ” 

“ That last part is just what the block teachers 
tell us,” said Hilda. 

The mother added: “ But farther on it says no 
man shall put away his wife unless she is un- 
faithful.” 

“ That’s what my father believed,” said Hilda. 
“ He wouldn’t have but one wife. He was of- 
fered preferment in the Church if he would take 
another, but he refused and from that day his ill 
luck began. No, it wasn’t luck. He was pro- 
scribed and persecuted. I believe as my father 
did. My husband will have only one wife and 
that will be I. If he takes another, I will leave 
him.” 

“ And so would I,” cried Flora. 


58 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“But where would you go?” asked the 
mother. 

“ I don’t know, I shouldn’t care. Perhaps, if 
they hunted for me, they might find me in the 
river Jordan.” 

Sister Florence held up her hands in protesta- 
tion. 

“ We have talked too much, children. This 
book says we must be content with the situation 
in which we are placed.” 

The two girls occupied a double-bedded room. 
When they were alone for the night Flora asked, 
“ Where did you learn about those Mahom — 
what did you call them? ” 

“ Mahometans. In those big books in the 
closet — they are called encyclopedias. They are 
just wonderful — they tell you everything. The 
old Jews were just like Mormons. They had 
lots of wives; but about an hundred years after 
Christ was born they had only one wife, but the 
Talmud, that’s their Bible, doesn’t say they can’t 
have more, and, isn’t it funny, the missionaries 
who go to the countries where men have more 
than one wife just try to convert them, but don’t 
ask them to give up their wives? ” 

“ But the United States Government wants 


MORMON HOUSEHOLDS 


59 

Mormons to give up their plural wives and have 
only one.” 

“ I’m glad of it,” said Hilda. 

“ And so am I,” was Flora’s reply. 

The ice of reserve was broken: the two girls 
had a common belief, a common wish, a com- 
mon hope, — to be a man’s only wife, and the 
maker of his home. 

Let us visit another Mormon household. The 
apostle, Jason Orme, had four wives, and they 
lived in four different houses. One house had 
sufficed until the United States Government took 
repressive measures; then it became necessary to 
hide the plural wives, and to visit them only by 
stealth. 

When Kimball and Hyde returned from Eng- 
land with the young English girl converts Jason 
took Jane Mallow as his first wife, and she had 
borne ten of the children of which he was the 
father. As he rose higher in the Church, to 
demonstrate his belief in the doctrine of plural 
marriage, he was “ sealed ” to Mary Goodwillie in 
the Endowment House. A friend’s wife had 
died and left three daughters of marriageable age. 
They had been divided among the faithful, like 


6o 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


any other property, and Florence Ledyard had 
fallen to him. 

There was no profession of love on either side. 
The man wished the approval of the Church and 
the young woman must have a home. There 
was no way in which she could earn her living. 
She had never been taught how to earn money, 
and, if she had been, there was nothing for her 
to do. Her heart yearned for some one to love 
and to love her, and she became a mother. After 
she was put away in the house in Sixth North 
street she had had few visits from her husband. 
Since that time he had taken a fourth wife, Maria 
Payne, and had been made one of the Twelve 
Apostles. 

Why she had been taken to Hilda’s house she 
could not fully divine. She knew that her hus- 
band had some motive other than she had imag- 
ined. What it was time would disclose. She had 
her child. If she were not taken from her, she 
would not complain. But Flora’s beauty made 
her apprehensive. She would be seen and cov- 
eted. She was safer where they now lived than 
in the city. Thus the mother’s heart was solaced 
with a false hope. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE PRESIDENT'S OFFICE 

CISTER FLORENCE knew why she had been 
obliged to leave the great house where she 
had lived with the other wives, Jane and Mary; 
but she could not understand why she had been 
taken from the house in Sixth North street to 
one which lacked so many of its comforts. We 
shall have to go back to a time several days previ- 
ous to that change, in order to learn the im- 
pelling reason. 

The President was aged and infirm, and the 
First Councilor was in his office attending to 
urgent business. He was a man of large stature, 
heavily built, with dark hair, sharp black eyes, 
a firmly set chin, and a face that bespoke aggres- 
siveness in every look. Seated at the table with 
him was an apostle well-known to us — Jason 
Orme. 

“ You knew our late brother William Bond? ” 
Jason asked. 

The First Councilor closed his mouth with an 
audible snap. 

61 


62 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ Yes, I knew him. He was an obstinate man. 
He refused to take a plural wife when the Church 
commanded, but God visited his wrath upon him. 
He was rich and could have supported many 
wives.” 

“ God deprived him of his riches/’ said Jason. 

“ Do you know how? ” asked the Councilor. 

“ I never heard anything but the fact.” 

“ I will tell you. When he lay ill and was un- 
able to attend to his mining business, which paid 
him great profits, but of which he failed to pay 
full tithes to the Church as God commands, his 
foreman came to him for instructions, which the 
sick man was unable to give to him. So Brother 
Harvey — it was he — came to me. He said he 
had discovered the mine, but that Bond had sup- 
plied the money to work it and had taken the 
lion’s share of the profits. I advised him to bring 
his claim before the Council, which he did. He 
brought witnesses from the mine, and, consider- 
ing all things, we decided that Brother Harvey 
was the rightful owner, and the Church has 
profited much by the change.” 

“ Bond left a wife and one daughter,” said 
Jason. “ The widow is dead, but the daughter 
is living with Sister Florence and her daughter.” 

“ In Sixth North street? ” asked the Councilor. 


THE PRESIDENT’S OFFICE 63 

“ No, they are in Bond’s old home on the South 
Road, where he lived in the summer.” 

“ But why did you move your wife and daugh- 
ter so far from the Tabernacle and the Temple? ” 

“ I had a reason which I came this morning 
to explain to you. I have one unmarried son, 
Samson, about twenty-one years old.” 

“ Why has he not married before? Is he in 
good health?” 

“ The best, from infancy. He is faithful to 
the Church in all ways but one. He has always 
been opposed to plural marriage. Since the 
Manifesto he has expressed his intention of mar- 
rying and I have chosen a wife for him.” 

“ Bond’s daughter, I suppose.” 

“ Yes, God has blessed her with physical charms 
that will appeal to my son.” 

The Councilor smiled cynically. 

“ An appropriate marriage. They will both 
defy the teachings of the Church as regards plural 
marriage.” 

“ But the Revelation has removed the neces- 
sity.” 

“ But not the custom,” the Councilor inter- 
polated. 

“Then the practice will be continued — 
secretly, of course.” 


6 4 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ Certainly; unless we do, we shall soon fall 
into that state of gross licentiousness which afflicts 
the world, and which plural marriage prevents. 
We are a moral people, and by following God’s 
command we can keep so.” 

“ Samson believes in the Manifesto.” 

“ Bah ! a sop to fool the Gentiles. The Presi- 
dent when he wrote it said God commanded. I 
cut out that word and substituted advised. Com- 
mands must be obeyed, but advice is not always 
followed. But you said you had a reason for 
moving your wife to Bond’s house.” 

“Yes; when Samson is married he can live in 
Sixth North street, and it is much safer for me 
to visit my wife where she is now than it was in 
the city. Jane is failing fast; Mary is living now 
in Ogden; Maria has two babies to care for, and 
Mary is not a good cook.” 

“ Then you intend to have Sister Florence take 
Jane’s place.” 

“ When the Lord wills.” 

“ We must all bow to his decrees,” said the 
Councilor. “ It seems to be His will that our 
beloved President should soon be taken to his 
bosom to live in eternal glory with his wives who 
will become, for all time, the daughters of 
Heaven. It is not improbable that I shall be 


THE PRESIDENT’S OFFICE 65 

called up to take his place, unworthy as I am.” 

“ None more worthy,” said Jason fervently. 

“ I know I shall have your support, Brother 
Orrne. My elevation will make room for an- 
other Councilor. I wish your presence as one 
of them.” 

Jason’s heart bounded. That would be the 
summit of his ambition. He was too old to ex- 
pect that he would ever be the head of the Church. 

“ I wish,” said the Councilor, “ that we were 
bound together by a closer tie than now. If you 
had an unmarried daughter.” 

“ I have one, Florence’s daughter, but she is 
not yet seventeen.” 

“ No doubt she is fair like her mother.” 

“ You shall see her. What beauty she has 
shall speak for itself.” 

A messenger rushed into the room. 

“ The President is stricken and the doctor says 
he is dying. You must come at once.” 

That evening when the descending sun turned 
to gold the clouds that formed an archway in 
the Heavens, the soul of the First President 
passed through the portal to meet the wives who 
had preceded him and await the coming of those 
left sorrowing on earth. This thought was ex- 
pressed by the First Councilor to the Apostle 


66 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


Jason, who bowed his assent. But it was only 
natural, only human, that each was thinking, more 
particularly of the elevation in power that was to 
come to him personally. God’s vicegerent on 
earth was dead. Long live his successor and his 
councilors! 


CHAPTER VIII 



BROTHER SAMSON 

RAMSON ORME, as his father had told the 
First Councilor, was about twenty-one years 
old; in fact, he had passed some four months be- 
yond that, in the minds of youth, mature age. 
He was born a merchant. At the age of 
eighteen, with capital supplied by his father, he 
had opened a small notion store for the sale of 
pins, needles, spool silk and cotton, and other 
domestic requirements. The volume of trade had 
forced him to take larger quarters in which he 
had found room for cloths of cotton, wool, and 
silk, and for hosiery, — in fact, a well-stocked 
dry-goods store. 

He was a stout, round-faced, smooth-shaven, 
light-haired, red-cheeked young man, popular with 
Gentiles as well as with Mormons. His often 
repeated declaration that he proposed to have but 
one wife at a time when he married had increased 
his patronage from the Gentiles. When told by 
his young Mormon friends that he would yet come 
to it, he replied: 


67 


68 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ Then I won’t marry at all. If I don’t have 
one wife they can’t make me have two.” 

Many of the Mormons predicted that he would 
become an apostate and join the Gentiles; but he 
lived with his father, who was a power in the 
Church and, thus far, no one had accused him of 
heresy. 

One morning he had a visit from his 
father, which was an event that seldom oc- 
curred. 

“ Samson, I wish to make Sister Florence a 
present of a dress. What color would you sug- 
gest? ” 

“ She usually dresses in black.” 

“ Not black,” said his father, decidedly. 

“ Here is a pearl gray,” said Samson, open- 
ing the piece of goods. 

“ That will do, and now what color will suit 
Flora best?” 

“ Blue, by all means,” said Samson. Flora 
was his favorite sister. They had been playmates 
in childhood, and he had always wished that 
Flora’s mother was his own, she was so pretty 
and so sweet-voiced. His own mother, aged with 
a life of toil and the rearing of ten children, was 
often querulous and sometimes harsh in voice and 
severe in discipline. 


BROTHER SAMSON 69 

His father made no objection to the choice of 
blue for his daughter. 

“ There is another young lady living with 
them,” said his father, “ — that orphan girl, 
Hilda Bond; she must not be forgotten. She is 
dark; blue would not become her.” 

“ Pink or red,” said Samson, unfolding some 
more dress goods. 

“ I think she would prefer that dark red,” said 
his father. “ She is very handsome, dignified and 
modest in her manner, but queenly in appearance. 
You must add such articles as will be needed to 
complete the dresses.” 

“ I will send them the three pieces of goods 
and they can cut off what they need.” 

“ No, you must take them yourself, Samson. 
If they need a dressmaker supply one.” 

“ Sister Florence always made her own 
dresses,” suggested Samson. 

“ Very well; but perhaps she will not care to 
make three.” 

He gave his son directions how to reach the 
house on the South Road, and said that he would 
pay the bill when it was ready. As he reached 
the store door, he added, “ You may take my car- 
riage when it is not in use.” 

The women were astonished when Samson ar- 


7 o THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

rived with several large packages. Flora and 
her mother were delighted to see him, and he was 
introduced to Hilda. 

Cries of pleasure were uttered when the pack- 
ages were opened. The goods were unrolled and 
held up, to view the effect and contrast. While 
this was being done, Samson watched Hilda. He 
said to himself that he could love that woman, and 
his next thought was that he would try to win 
her. 

When everything had been examined and 
praised, he asked, 

“ Shall I send a dressmaker? ” 

“ Oh, no,” said Sister Florence, “I know how 
to cut and fit them, and it will be a pleasure to 
make them, only it will take a long time without 
a sewing-machine.” 

“ I forgot to tell you,” said Samson, “ that 
these dresses are a present from father.” 

Sister Florence had read so much that she had 
become tired, and the change to dressmaking was 
not work, but a recreation. 

The second day thereafter a wagon was driven 
to the door and a sewing-machine was brought 
in. With it was a note from Samson saying that 
he had bought a new machine and hoped that the 
ladies would accept it, with his compliments. He 


BROTHER SAMSON 


7i 

added that he was coming out to see the dresses 
when they were finished. He kept his word, and 
brought a bouquet for each of the ladies. Mor- 
mon men can love and be as gallant as other 
lovers. No form of religion, nor lack of it, has 
ever quenched that divine fire that draws man to 
woman and woman to man. 

Samson was soon on good terms with Hilda. 
He had said that he was opposed to plural mar- 
riage. Then he told her about his business af- 
fairs. His patrons were chiefly women, but many 
men visited his store and he had made money as 
agent for a New York life insurance company. 
Having some spare money he had found a part- 
ner and had gone into the salt business. He 
would end by saying, “ I’m going to get married 
some day.” They took long walks together, and, 
although they were Mormons, their conversation 
was very like that of all youths and maids under 
similar circumstances. 

Samson noticed that the exterior of the house 
was bare and uninviting. He brought out vines 
to clamber over the front piazza, sweet peas and 
rose-bushes for the garden, and, because it was 
greatly needed, a rustic seat, which was placed 
under the peach trees, which were soon in full 
bloom. 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


72 

Sister Florence, Flora, and Hilda were happy 
in what was the nearest approach to a real home 
that they had ever seen. Florence’s life had been 
made unhappy by her isolation; Flora’s by her 
mother’s sorrow, and Hilda’s by the poverty, sick- 
ness, and death of her parents. For once they 
were content with the situation in which they were 
placed. 

When the dresses were done the ladies had 
stood in line, side by side, for Samson’s inspec- 
tion. The two girls were slighter in figure than 
the mother, but they were very nearly of the 
same height. There they stood, — three roses, — 
two just budding, the other full-bloom, its heart 
having felt the sting of its own thorns. 


CHAPTER IX 


AWAY FROM HOME 

JpRANKLIN BRIANT went to the rendez- 
vous that he had appointed for his meet- 
ing with Flora. He waited long after the hour 
mentioned in the slip of paper that he had put 
into her hand, but she did not come. Then his 
mind was filled with perplexities. Was she ill? 
She was in good health the day before. Had 
her mother kept her in the house so that she could 
not meet him? That was possible, even prob- 
able, for he knew that Sister Florence was a 
Mormon and would never consent to have her 
daughter marry a Gentile. Marry Flora? 
Even if possible, that happy event was too far 
in the future to merit present consideration. He 
was entirely dependent upon his father, who 
would either laugh or be angry at the idea of his 
son’s marrying a Mormon girl, however beauti- 
ful she might be. 

But love does not always end in marriage. 
Then he reasoned with himself. Perhaps it was 
not love that he felt for Flora ; it might be only 
73 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


74 

friendship: but, whatever it was, he knew that 
they could be happy together, were they not sep- 
arated by different religious faiths. 

Then his hopefulness fled, his courage fell; per- 
haps she had remained away of her own free will. 
He had read that women were fickle. Again, she 
loved her mother and would take her counsel to 
heart. But words and looks had passed between 
them that again removed his doubts. He would 
trust her, and come to the trysting place each 
day. This he did, but his eyes were not glad- 
dened by her approach. 

He went one evening to the house in Sixth 
North street. There was no light within. It was 
only seven o’clock, and they could not have re- 
tired so early. He raised the knocker, but did 
not let it fall. He tried to recall what her mother 
had said. As he remembered her words, she had 
said that he was going away. Perhaps she did 
say that she , Flora, was going away. He asked 
Samson Orme if his sister Flora had gone away. 
His answer had been: 

“ I don’t know. I haven’t seen nor heard from 
Flora or her mother for a long time.” 

He would have continued his search, but was 
prevented by an unexpected, though not unpleas- 
ant, interview with his father. 


AWAY FROM HOME 


75 

“ Frank, I have come to the conclusion that 
you don’t like being a printer and that you have 
no ambition to succeed me as editor of the Star” 

“ I don’t like to disappoint you, father, but 
you have said it about as I feel.” 

“ What would you choose for your life’s 
work? ” 

“ Well, father, I’ve always thought I’d like to 
be a lawyer.” 

“ You’d have to leave home and go to col- 
lege.” 

“ Couldn’t I study here with some lawyer? ” 

“ No. I was born in the East and have east- 
ern ideas. That’s why I oppose certain Mor- 
mon practices. You are young and your mind 
is uninformed. If you remain here the influences 
are insidious. Under certain circumstances you 
might be induced to become a Mormon.” 

“ I think you do me an injustice by thinking that 
possible.” 

“ Perhaps so, but we will say no more about 
it. I want you to see the world, mix with its 
people, and have your mind strengthened in a 
different atmosphere. I have talked it over with 
your mother, and we have decided to send you 
east to enter some college.” 

“ I should like to go to Harvard or Yale.” 


7 6 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ I am advised to have you enter Boston Uni- 
versity, which is in the city of that name. It has 
a fine law school, and my desire is to have you 
become a great lawyer rather than a crack pitcher, 
half-back, or bow oar.” 

Preparations for the departure were quickly 
made. When all was ready the father had an- 
other confidential talk with his son. 

“You are to go first to Winsted, Connecticut, 
and visit your Aunt Priscilla and your Uncle John. 
Your examinations will not come for several 
weeks, and you will enjoy visiting the old home- 
stead where I was born, if it is still standing. 
Aunt Priscilla will show you around. My four 
brothers, — Washington, Adams, Jefferson and 
Monroe, — have gone out into the world to make 
their fortunes as I did. I set them an example 
* — perhaps it was a bad one. Jefferson and Mon- 
roe are pork packers in Chicago. You must look 
them up.” 

“ I shall be happy to meet my aunt and my 
uncles.” 

“ Now, Frank, I am going to keep your loca- 
tion a secret. I have reasons which I consider 
good ones. As soon as you reach Boston hire a 
post-office box and send me the number. Address 
all your letters to the Star and put my initials in 


AWAY FROM HOME 


77 

the corner. And, Frank, if you wish to write to 
anybody here, send the letter, under cover, to me, 
and I will see that it is delivered.” 

Franklin mentally resolved that the first let- 
ter to be sent so would be to Miss Flora Orme. 

The parting with his mother was a sad one. 
She had grown weaker and her tears fell freely 
as she embraced him. 

“ I fear this is the last time I shall see you, 
Frank. Be a good boy. If you are as good a 
man as your dear father, I shall be satisfied. 
Give my best love to my sister and my brother 
and tell them I long to see them once more be- 
fore I go.” 

Her son tried to cheer her, but his own eyes 
were full, and a big lump in his throat choked 
his utterance. 

When Frank reached Chicago he was stunned, 
almost stupefied, by the rush and riot of the great 
city. He found his uncles, who were ceremoni- 
ously kind to him and deputed a clerk to show 
him the sights. His stay in New York was short 
— another wilderness of brick and stone, another 
great caravansary where human ants toiled and 
pleasured, starved and feasted, and died almost 
as fast as new souls from the Great Beyond were 
incarnated in the flesh. 


78 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


What a pleasure, what a relief, it was to reach 
the quiet town in northwestern Connecticut and 
rest in an old-fashioned rocking-chair in his 
Aunt Priscilla’s cozy sitting-room, with preserved 
flowers in frames upon the wall, wax canaries 
perched upon twigs on the mantel-piece, a live one 
singing in the sunlight, the tabby-cat asleep on the 
rag mat of many colors, and the big clock in 
the entry, saying, “ peace,” “ rest ” — “ peace,” 
“ rest,” sixty times every hour. 

Aunt Priscilla, several years older than his 
mother, was rugged, prim, opinionated, these qual- 
ities softened by a pleasant voice and kindly smile; 
but she held in reserve a sharp tongue and a 
lowering brow for use when occasion required, 
which was when her niece Susan, usually called 
Sukey, did something odyus, or failed to do some- 
thing ordered or requested, which, in Aunt Pris- 
cilla’s opinion was equally odyus . 

Uncle John had not prospered in a worldly 
way, but had added so largely to his family that 
it was found necessary for his sister to become re- 
sponsible for the care and support of one of the 
numerous brood, which accounts for Sukey’s 
presence in her aunt’s family. 

While at Winsted, Franklin wrote to his father 
and mother and sister, and enclosed a letter to 


AWAY FROM HOME 


79 

Flora, in which he forgave her in advance for 
her failure to meet him, and asked her to write 
to him. He did not mail the letter until he 
reached Boston and purchased the box in the 
postoffice. He put his address in both letters 
and sent them on their way, hoping they would 
bring him loving words from home — and 
Flora. 

He passed his examinations and was admitted 
to Boston University. He had rooms in Mount 
Vernon street, — a study, sleeping room, and bath, 
with meals in the house, if desired. As a relaxa- 
tion from study he attended theaters, concerts, 
and the opera; and on Sundays, and some even- 
ings, was a regular attendant at services in a 
church not far from his residence. 

The knowledge that he came from Utah 
caused much speculation among his fellow and 
girl students, and many out-spoken questions. 

“Were you born in Utah, Mr. Briant? ” 
asked Miss Caroline Beebe, who intended to be- 
come a lawyer. 

Evading a direct reply, Franklin said, 

“ Ever since I can remember I have lived in 
Salt Lake City.” 

“ Aren’t you glad to get away from such 
people? ” 


8o 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ My father, mother, and sister live there,” 
was his reply. 

He did not say that it was the home of the 
girl he loved. 

“ Those Mormons must be horrid people,” and 
Miss Beebe accentuated her opinion by a contemp- 
tuous smile. 

“ They are honest and hard-working. As the 
poet says they have ‘ made the desert blossom as 
the rose.’ ” 

“ But their marriage customs are so absurd 
— positively disgusting,” and there was an up- 
ward tilt of the nose and a pursing of her mouth. 

“ It is their religion,” was his reply. 

“ They are no better than heathens,” exclaimed 
Miss Beebe, “ and the women must feel their 
degradation.” 

“ Some do, but the majority do not,” said 
Franklin. “ Women are more religious than men 
and what their creed demands they accept and 
obey.” 

Miss Beebe was not convinced. 

“ Their faces must show the miserable lives 
they lead.” 

“ There you are decidedly wrong,” cried Frank- 
lin, as a vision of Flora came before him. 
“ Their women are handsome, the young girls as 


AWAY FROM HOME 


81 


beautiful, as any I have seen here in Boston.” 

There was another disdainful tilt of the nose. 
His remark was not complimentary. One of 
those things, as Punch says, that had been better 
left unsaid. 

Two months had passed since he began his 
studies. He had heard from his father several 
times. His mother’s health was no better. His 
father did not mention Flora, and she had not 
answered the letter enclosed in the one written 
to his father at Winsted. He tried to explain her 
silence in a way to excuse her, but could not. 
Even if she had changed her mind and loved him 
no longer, she could write and tell him so. That 
blow, severe as it would be, could cause him no 
more heartaches than this suspense. 

His reflections, ever present when not engaged 
in study, and often taking time that should have 
been given to it, were interrupted by the receipt 
of a telegram containing sad news: 

“ Mother has passed away, 

Interment at Winsted, 

Meet me there Tuesday.” 

Melissa Somerby Briant was buried in the 
cemetery beside her father and mother. John 
came to the funeral with his wife and nine chil- 


82 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


dren. To Sukey this reunion with her brothers 
and sisters was a holiday, and Aunt Priscilla’s 
brow grew dark with displeasure and her voice 
sharp with repeated admonitions to silence, and to 
stop acting so odyus. 

Franklin was obliged to return to his studies, 
but his father remained to talk over family mat- 
ters with his sister-in-law. The conclusion ar- 
rived at was that John should have the house, 
which was much larger than the one he rented, 
thus helping him in a money way. Priscilla was 
to go back to Utah with Mr. Briant to take charge 
of his house, as Gertrude was not yet capable of 
managing it. 

“ Sukey must go with me,” said Priscilla. 
“ When she’s with the other children they are 
always squabbling and John’s wife has no more 
management in her than a ten-year-old. They 
are all going to destruction, but it can’t be helped. 
I’ve had Sukey a year and she’s a little less 
odyus, but you saw how she acted when she got 
with the others. Lord knows what she’ll do when 
she gets to your place.” 

“ The Mormon children are like any others,” 
said Mr. Briant. 

“ But she ain’t,” said Priscilla grimly. 
“ That’s the trouble. But if you want me, you 


AWAY FROM HOME 83 

must take her, and run the risk; and you mustn’t 
blame me for what happens.” 

Franklin had read that Boston girls, especially 
the educated ones, were prim in their manners, 
had corkscrew curls, and wore spectacles. He 
had not found it so. Those he had met had 
fresh, young faces, hair done up in the latest 
style, and they looked out of bright eyes which had 
no window-panes before them. But he had seen 
no one with such beautiful hair, such lovely eyes, 
and such a pure, sweet face as Flora’s — and his 
reflections and attendant heartaches began all over 
again. 


CHAPTER X 


A REAL MARRIAGE 

T ASON ORME expressed no surprise when his 
** son Samson asked permission to marry. He 
gave his consent without asking the name of the 
intended bride. He had kept well informed and 
knew that his plan, or rather plot, had been suc- 
cessful. It had cost him the price of three 
dresses, two of which it was his duty to supply. 

The President was pleased when Jason told 
him of the coming marriage, and offered to per- 
form the ceremony. Hilda was inclined to rebel, 
but Sister Florence told her that the President’s 
favor would help her future husband and she ac- 
quiesced, with a mental protest. 

The marriage took place at the old house on 
the South Road. Samson’s father wished it to 
occur at his house, but Hilda refused to go there. 

“ This house was my father’s. In it my mother 
and he suffered the miseries of poverty and the 
pangs of disease, and it shall witness the begin- 
ning of my happiness — the first I have known.” 

The President came and Hilda Bond became 
84 


A REAL MARRIAGE 85 

Mrs. Samson Orme. Hers was no divided title. 
There was no plural wife to shame her husband’s 
love, to take him from the home that she was re- 
solved to make for him. 

For the first time the President met Flora 
Orme. She was happy for her best loved brother 
had married her dearest girl friend and confi- 
dante. Hilda was to begin a life such as she 
craved for herself, — one man and one woman, 
they to become one flesh. 

No one knew what was passing in the mind 
of the President as he gazed upon Flora’s smil- 
ing face and symmetrical form. Perhaps there 
came a wish to make her his fifth wife — he al- 
ready had four wives and twelve children, and 
he was a young man, — only fifty-two. 

Hilda bore herself defiantly. She had won a 
victory: her husband was not a polygamist. The 
President noticed her proud air and accepted the 
challenge. 

“ I congratulate you, Sister Hilda,” he said 
softly. 

“ I am not Sister Hilda. I am Mrs. Samson 
Orme,” was her quick reply. 

“ He has been slow to marry.” 

“He marries for love as I have done. He 
thinks as I do.” 


86 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ And what do you think? ” the President asked 
blandly. 

“ That a man should have but one wife and 
cling to her until death parts them,” and her face 
flushed with the vehemence of her feelings. 

“ Then you nor he believe in celestial mar- 
riage? ” This was both an assertion and a ques- 
tion. 

Hilda knew that this was a critical moment, 
but she was steadfast. 

“Why should we? The son of the first 
prophet has repudiated the doctrine, and God 
has given a Revelation forbidding it. Why 
should we believe in it? ” 

The President did not answer. Flora came 
toward them and he welcomed the interruption. 

Samson took his bride to the house on Sixth 
North street that had been formerly occupied by 
Flora and her mother. 

Hilda feared the President. She knew his 
power and that he would be unscrupulous in using 
it against her. He looked upon her as an enemy 
of the Church’s foundation principle. A woman 
is never satisfied with one declaration of her hus- 
band’s love and loyalty. She must hear it over 
and over again. 

When they were in their own home, Hilda said, 


A REAL MARRIAGE 87 

“ Samson, you will never forsake me, wil^ you, 
and take another wife while I live? ” 

“ Nothing could induce me to do that, Hilda.” 

“ Suppose the Church should try to force you 
as it did my father? Suppose it reduces you to 
poverty as it did him? Would you then be true 
to me? ” 

“ I swear to you, Hilda, that I would give my 
life rather than break the promise I have made 
to you,” and Samson meant what he said — then. 

“ I will believe you, Samson. But the Church 
is mighty and one man is weak. Remember that 
a woman was the ruin of the one for whom you 
are named, and he was a strong man.” 

“ But he pulled down the temple of his 
enemies.” 

“ And so will I pull down the Mormon’s 
Temple, if they take you from me. My heart 
is sore and bitter at the treatment my father and 
mother received from the Church. He was 
robbed of his fortune. He fell sick; he lacked 
food and medicines to make him well again. No 
helping hand was held out to him. He died, and 
my mother soon followed him — for her heart 
was broken. I remember these scenes. I said I 
would never trust a Mormon again. But I have 
believed you. My heart is full of wounds. If 


88 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

you open them again, nothing will save me 
from — ” 

She stopped short, and Samson’s eyes looked a 
question that she understood. 

“ I do not know,” she answered the mute 
inquiry hesitatingly. 

“Would you revenge yourself on me?” he 
asked. 

“ I am not a murderess. Nor would I take my 
own life, worthless as it would be. No, but — ” 
She stopped again, and smiled. “ We have gone 
too far, Samson. This is our wedding night. 
Let us banish thoughts of trouble and vengeance 
and think only of our love.” 

Hilda Orme was a woman of determination 
and she was resourceful in mind and body. Be- 
ware, Samson Orme, if you prove false to her! 


CHAPTER XI 


aunt Priscilla's opinions 

TOURING the trip from Winsted to Salt Lake 
City, Miss Priscilla Somerby looked about 
her with open-eyed wonderment. She had not 
the stoicism of the American Indian who can look 
unmoved upon the greatest manifestations of 
modern progress. 

“ Beats all,” she said, “ how folks can make a 
living packed so close together.” 

“ That's the reason they prosper,” said Mr. 
Briant. “ The man who lives away from his fel- 
lows gets little to do and nobody to pay him 
for doing it. Look at the Chinese.” 

Miss Priscilla gave a portentous sniff. 

Mr. Briant was undismayed. “ Texas is our 
largest State, with about three million people. 
In China there is a province only two-thirds as 
large in which fifty million make a living.” 

With an aggravated sniff the lady said, “ Them 
rat eaters can live on anything.” 

“ There you are wrong. They raise beans and 
rice and wheat. No one is very rich but few 
89 


9 o THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

are very poor. And that reminds me to say that 
no doubt you have formed a very poor opinion 
of the Mormons. When you see them you may 
think differently.” 

“ Franklin has told me much about them and 
I’ve read some things myself; all I can say is 
that if they are better than what I’ve heard and 
read they certainly ought to be.” 

A few days after their arrival at Mr. Briant’s 
home he took her for a drive to show her the city. 

“What’s that building?” she asked, pointing 
to a great pile with four sky-piercing towers. 

“That’s the great Mormon Temple. It cost 
nearly four million dollars to build and furnish 
it.” 

“ That’s a great waste of money — better give 
it to the poor,” was her comment “ What’s that 
statter on top of it? ” 

“ That’s the Angel Moroni. The Mormons 
say he came down from Heaven to show the 
Prophet Joseph Smith where to find the Book of 
Mormon.” 

“ Smith ! ” said Miss Priscilla, with a snort. 
“That’s a fine name for a prophet, isn’t it? 
What did you say the angel’s name was — Ma- 
honey? ” 

Mr. Briant pointed to another large building. 


AUNT PRISCILLA’S OPINIONS 91 

“ That’s the Tabernacle — it’s a church — seats 
eight thousand people.” 

“ I don’t believe in such big churches,” said 
she. “ To my mind there’s nothing so nice as 
small churches all over a town or city, on the 
street corners where everybody can see them and 
be reminded of God and his mercies to us poor 
sinners.” 

They were now in the residential section. 

“ The President of the Church lives in that 
big house,” said Mr. Briant. 

“ What’s his name? ” 

“ Smith.” 

“ I always knew there was lots of Smiths, but 
I never knew before that there was enough of 
’em to get up a religion for themselves.” 

She espied a small house covered with vines 
and bright with roses. 

“ Who lives there?” 

Mr. Briant said mildly: 

“ You know the Mormons have more than one 
wife. One of the President’s lives there.” 

“ How many has he got? ” 

“ Four now. They say he has bought an- 
other house, and that may mean five very 
soon.” 

Miss Priscilla tossed her head. “ He’s 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


92 

wusser’n a Turk. They are ignorant, but he 
ought to know better.” 

That evening after supper Miss Priscilla went 
to the bookcase and got the big dictionary. She 
sat down and began studying it intently. 

“ Trying to find some word to express your 
opinion of what you saw to-day? ” 

“ Yes, Madison, that’s just what I’m doing.” 

‘‘Have you found it?” 

“ I’ve found something. If a man has two 
wives it’s a bigamy. And there I just blundered 
onto another word that I wanted — if he has three 
wives, it’s a trigamy.” 

“ What would you call it if he had four, Pris- 
cilla?” 

“ Why, I should say it was a double bigamy.” 

“And five?” 

“ That would be a bigamy-trigamy.” 

“ And when the President gets six? ” 

“ That will be double trigamy. Oh, the whole 
business is odyus, and this city will perish as did 
Sodom and Gomorrah.” 

“ Then you think we shall have to wait until 
God himself punishes the wicked? ” 

“ He may raise up some one to do it for him. 
I remember reading ‘ Uncle Tom’s Cabin ’ when 
I was a girl. How I cried over Little Eva’s 


AUNT PRISCILLA’S OPINIONS 93 

death, and poor Uncle Tom. What is wanted is 
somebody to show up these Mormons as she, 
’twas a woman wrote it, did the slaveholders. 
The people must have their eyes opened.” 

“ I have tried to open them in my paper, but 
it has a small circulation, and it falls on stony 
ground. There are too many among the Gen- 
tiles who think that the best way is to keep still 
and let the matter alone. As you say, what is 
needed is a book that will reach all parts of 
the country — that, a newspaper can never 
do.” 

He went to the bookcase and took from it a 
copy of Mrs. Stowe’s book. 

“ Do you remember St. Clare, Little Eva’s 
father?” 

“ Yes, but he wasn’t a religious man. It took 
a black slave with a white heart to show him how 
his own needed God’s grace to cleanse it.” 

“But he was a good man, at heart. Let me 
read you some things he said. Perhaps you have 
forgotten them.” 

Mr. Briant opened the book and, when he had 
found the place, read, “ ‘ They have absolute con- 
trol. They are irresponsible despots.’ ” Then 
he continued: “He was speaking of the slave- 
holders, but it is equally true of the Mormon 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


94 

leaders. They govern their followers in ‘ body, 
soul, and spirit.’ ” 

“ But, Madison, why not pick out one case 
and get that settled? That may frighten the 
others.” 

“ Very good, Priscilla. But listen to what St. 
Clare says on that very point. ‘ I can’t turn 
knight errant and undertake to redeem every in- 
dividual wrong.’ That’s the way I feel about it.” 

“ I am afraid you don’t feel very deeply about 
it, Madison. The walls of Jericho fell down 
when the horns were blown. I should keep on 
blowing my horn.” 

“ I will. But you wrong me when you say I 
do not feel deeply about this matter. I feel as 
St. Clare did about slavery. Listen to what he 
said : ‘ When I have seen such men in actual 
ownership of helpless children, of young girls and 
women, I have been ready to curse my country — 
to curse the human race 

From the next room came the sweet melody of 
“ Lead, Kindly Light.” Gertrude was at the 
piano. 

“ That’s it, Priscilla. God must lead us in this 
fight. He must inspire some man or woman to 
do for the white slaves of Utah what Mrs. Stowe 
did for the African slaves of the South.” 


AUNT PRISCILLA’S OPINIONS 95 

“ It is a hard question, Madison. Of course 
these Mormons think God is on their side.” 

“ Certainly they do. Napoleon Bonaparte said 
God fought with the strongest battalions. The 
sentiment of America, when it is fully aroused, 
will demand the abolition of polygamy, and a 
quarter of a million must obey a hundred million. 
Come into the parlor; Gertrude will play and sing 
for us.” 


CHAPTER XII 


SUKEY 

TT does not take children long to become ac- 
quainted and Miss Susan Somerby, of Win- 
sted, Connecticut, soon accustomed herself to her 
new surroundings. She had few playmates in her 
old home and had been obliged to help her aunt 
with her household duties. One strong reason 
that had led Priscilla virtually to adopt her 
brother’s child had been “ to save herself steps.” 
The child loved “ to go on errands,” and there 
were many of them. 

The name of Susan’s mother was also Susan. 
It had been corrupted into “ Sukey ” when she 
was a child, and it was natural that her child 
should be called as she had been, uneuphonious 
and discordant to educated ears as the name was. 
To be called “ Susan ” was a warning of a com- 
ing reproof or punishment, and did not fall pleas- 
antly on the child’s ears, while the familiar 
“ Sukey ” indicated that no domestic storms were 
in sight 

In her new home she was free from all tasks, 
96 


SUKEY 


97 

for Mr. Briant’s servants preferred her room to 
her company. At the time of her arrival the 
schools were not in session, and she had very 
nearly absolute freedom, of which she took ad- 
vantage. The streets were full of children of all 
ages. She soon had her friends and her ene- 
mies. The one she feasted liberally with candy 
and cakes ; the other got ugly looks, sharp words, 
sundry shakings, and, in one instance, a sound 
pounding with a piece of lath, which attack pro- 
voked a personal remonstrance from the boy’s 
mother. 

A long and heated conversation had preceded 
the beating. 

“What’s your name?” Sukey had asked the 
boy. 

“ Robert.” 

“ What’s your other name? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“Yes you do, too.” 

“ No, I don’t. It’s none of your business any- 
way.” 

“ Don’t you be sassy to me,” cried Sukey. 

The boy retorted, “ You don’t know your own 
name.” 

This remark pleased a crowd of children who, 
with open eyes and ears, were enjoying the 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


98 

squabble. The primeval inclination to battle is 
born in the blood, and even education, while it 
tames, does not entirely remove the savage in- 
stinct. “ Let us have peace,” cry many; “ Peace, 
with honor,” is the reply, which often means war, 
for its honors are great and lasting. History is 
largely devoted to the doings of warriors and 
conquerors, and the fighting microbe in the child’s 
system feeds and fattens upon the stories of dar- 
ing deeds that form so great a part of its read- 
ing. 

Sukey met the challenge promptly. “ My 
name is Sukey Somerby.” 

“What’s your mother’s name?” 

“ Just like mine.” 

“ Who’s that woman that calls you in? ” Robert 
had become the questioner. 

“ She’s my Aunt Priscilla. My mother lives 
’way off,” and she pointed to all parts of the com- 
pass, “ and Aunt Priscilla is my mother now. 
There, I’ve been polite to you, and you ought to 
tell me your mother’s name.” 

Robert saw the force of her argument, and 
answered, “ My mother’s name is Sister Ruth.” 

“ You’re fooling. Your sister can’t be your 
mother.” 

“ Yes, she is, too,” and Robert appealed to the 


SUKEY 


99 

children about him, who sustained him in his 
statement. 

Sukey was not one to take defeat gracefully. 
Her eyes snapped, her cheeks grew red with pas- 
sion, and she cried, 

“ You are a big liar, and you ought to be 
whipped.” 

“ You ain’t big enough to do it,” said Robert, 
and the defiant remark was accompanied by a 
facial expression that raised Sukey’s Yankee 
blood to the boiling point. Picking up a piece of 
lath that lay in the street, she belabored Robert 
until he broke away and ran crying toward his 
home, followed by an army of children. 

The mother came to Mr. Briant’s house and 
was met by Miss Priscilla. After listening to 
the matter, Sukey was asked for her side of 
the story which was fluently given, ending 
with, 

“ He said his sister was his mother, and that 
was a lie, — a regular whopper.” 

u What is your name?” Priscilla asked the 
woman. 

“ I am called Sister Ruth.” 

Priscilla’s eyebrows were perceptibly raised. 

“ Of course you are married, as you have a 
son. What is your husband’s name? Mr. Bri- 


100 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

ant is Sukey’s uncle. He will see your husband 
and do what is right in the matter.” 

The woman did not reply. 

“ I asked you what your husband’s name was. 
Where does he live?” 

The woman did not answer. Priscilla under- 
stood. Sister Ruth was one of those make-be- 
lieve wives. She was to be pitied, and the boy 
more than she. She must settle the matter her- 
self. 

“ Susan,” and Sukey knew the decision was 
against her, “ the boy was right and you were 
wrong. You’ve had a different bringing up, and 
thought every boy had a father and a mother. 
You ask the boy’s pardon, and -if I catch you 
fighting again, I’ll give you a trouncing that you 
won’t forget as long as you live.” 

Sister Ruth was satisfied with her escape from 
further disagreeable questions and took her de- 
parture. Sukey’s curiosity was not satisfied. 

“ If Robert has no father and mother, where 
did he come from. Did he grow on a tree?” 

“ Yes, the devil’s tree,” was her aunt’s grim 
response, “ and it’s full of such fruit.” 

When Mr. Briant came home, the exciting 
event of the morning was told to him. 

“Who is this Robert?” he asked. 


SUKEY 


IOI 


Sukey was called in to tell where he lived. 
She had found out during the afternoon. 

“ No wonder Sister Ruth didn’t give you her 
husband’s name. She is one of the President’s 
plural wives.” 

“ Why don’t they call them all Smith and be 
done with it? ” asked Aunt Priscilla. Noticing 
that Sukey was listening, she was sent from the 
room. But Sukey had heard enough. When 
she met Robert next day, she called out, “ Hello, 
Bobby Smith.” 

“Let me answer your question, Priscilla,” said 
Mr. Briant. 

“ Three of the President’s wives were married 
to him before the law against polygamy was 
passed. Since then, up to the time of the Mani- 
festo, he had taken another, in defiance of the 
law. Whether he will defy the command of the 
Almighty remains to be seen. But he dares not 
visit these wives openly, for he would be liable 
to arrest. You see now why his plural wives 
and their children cannot use his name.” 

“ Are the married women here all doubled up, 
and more too ? ” 

“ Oh, no. A Mormon is entitled to one wife 
the same as any man; it is only those who can 
afford it that have more, and many who could, 


102 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


do not When we take our trip to Great Salt 
Lake I will introduce you to a lady who is a Mor- 
mon, and whose husband is a Mormon, but neither 
of them believe in plural marriage. She is the 
wife of Samson Orme. He keeps a dry-goods 
store where I often trade.” 

Sukey was destined to become the heroine of 
another event, but one more creditable to her than 
the affair with Robert. She came running into 
the house with a little boy in her arms. His 
forehead had a cut from which the blood was 
flowing, and his hands were covered with mud. 

“ Good Lord,” cried Priscilla, “ have you been 
fighting again?” 

“ No, Auntie. A big boy ran against this little 
fellow and knocked him into the street. He 
couldn’t tell where he lived, so I fetched him 
home.” 

Miss Priscilla’s womanly sympathy was alive 
in an instant. She stanched the flow of blood and 
washed the child’s hands, which were badly 
bruised. From her family medicine chest came 
sticking-plaster for the cut and balm of Gilead 
to soothe the little hands. 

“ See if you can find out where he lives, Sukey, 
and I will take him home. He is too weak to 
walk and too heavy for you to carry far.” 


SUKEY 


103 


Sukey was an amateur sleuth and soon returned 
with the desired information. The mother was 
a young woman. She held a baby in her arms 
while another was in a cradle by her side. Miss 
Priscilla told how the little boy had been injured 
and what she had done to relieve his pain. The 
mother was very grateful, and showed by her 
manner and language that she was an educated 
woman. 

Miss Priscilla looked at the child in her arms 
and then at the cradle. The mother smiled and 
answered her inquiring look. 

“ They are twins — six months old.” 

“What are their names?” asked Aunt Pris- 
cilla. 

“ The one I am holding is named Maria, for 
me; the one in the cradle is Jane — for my hus- 
band’s first wife.” 

“ Then he was a widower when you married him. 
You’re lucky. So many women here marry men 
who have a lot of other wives. It is a sin in 
the eyes of God.” 

The woman looked up, and said calmly: “ It 
is their religion. It is God’s command given to 
his chosen people.” 

“ You are a Mormon,” said Miss Priscilla. 

“ Yes. What are you? ” 


104 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ I am a Methodist” 

“ I was a Methodist before I became a Mor- 
mon. I lived in the East. The men there are 
faithless. I would rather be a plural wife than 
have a husband who would desert me when I 
grew old for a younger woman. Mormon hus- 
bands are faithful. They have no cause to be 
otherwise. Look at your list of divorces — due, 
in most cases, to some form of unfaithful- 
ness.” 

Miss Priscilla saw that she had caught a Tar- 
tar. But she would not give in as beaten. 

“ But think of your children. They cannot 
bear their father’s name.” 

“What’s in a name? Moses was a prophet 
and so is the President of our Church. In the 
time of Moses a man was called the son of Abra- 
ham, or the son of Isaac, or Jacob. My little 
boy is the son of Jason, my little girls are the 
daughters of Maria — some day to be daughters 
of Heaven. Their father would give them and 
me his name, but evil men have made laws that 
would subject him to fine or imprisonment, if our 
relations were known. No true wife would bring 
such disgrace to her husband.” 

That evening Miss Priscilla told Mr. Briant 
her experience. At the close she exclaimed: “ I 


SUKEY 105 

give it up. Some women are such contrary crit- 
ters.’’ 

Mr. Briant sat quietly for some minutes. 
Then he said, “ My boy’s name is Jason, the 
mother’s name is Maria, and one of the twin’s 
is named for her husband’s first wife?” 

Miss Priscilla nodded. 

“ Those names fit together pretty well. She is 
the wife of the Apostle Jason Orme without a 
doubt, — his third, — but he has a fourth, if rumor 
is correct.” 

“Are you going to have him arrested? Shall 
I have to go to court? ” 

“ Don’t worry, Priscilla. He would deny that 
she was his wife; she would deny that she was 
ever married to him.” 

“ But she called him her husband.” 

“ No record can be found of any such marriage, 
nor any person who will testify he performed it. 
Nothing can be done that way. We are in the 
hand of the Ammonites ! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


AN OFFERING TO MOLOCH 
HE same bells that ring out merrily for the 



bride are tolled solemnly for the departed. 
They announced the passing on of Jane, the ac- 
knowledged wife of the Apostle Jason Orme. 
But he was not a widower, for he had three 
living wives, even if they did not bear his name. 
The question in his mind was which one should 
be elevated to what the Gentiles considered the 
only post of wifely honor. As he had told the 
First Councilor, now President, Mary was not 
a good cook, and Maria had twin babies to care 


for. 


He decided to ask the President’s advice. The 
Second Councilor had been moved into first place, 
but the vacancy had not been filled. More im- 
portant in his mind than his domestic affairs were 
those of the Church, and his life’s ambition had 
been to sit in the Council and aid in directing the 
development of the “ Stakes of Zion.” 

The President received him graciously and 
sympathized with him in his bereavement. 


106 


AN OFFERING TO MOLOCH 107 

“ She has joined the Heavenly host and is wait- 
ing for you. In time you and your wives shall 
reign over principalities and kingdoms. I have 
been greatly tempted lately.” 

“ But you resisted,” said Jason. 

“ For the time being. You know, Brother 
Orme, I am desirous of having you as one of my 
Councilors.” 

Jason knew that the President usually had his 
desires, but he feared the opening words presaged 
some opposition, and they did. 

“ I had supposed,” began the President, “ that 
my quiver of joy was full and that my four wives 
would join me in Paradise.” 

“Do you think of taking another wife?” 
Jason’s voice betrayed his deep concern. 

“ I have not decided. Another Apostle is 
desirous of becoming a member of the Council. 
He has a beautiful daughter and wishes 
that our family may be more closely 
united.” 

Jason felt that the coveted honor was to pass 
beyond his reach. 

“ But I have seen one still fairer,” said the 
President. Jason was silent. He could not ask 
a direct question; but the President rendered this 
unnecessary. 


io8 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ When your son Samson was married, I met 
your daughter Flora.” 

He looked at Jason inquiringly. 

“ She is opposed to plural marriages,” was 
Jason’s reply to the mute question. 

“ So is your son Samson, but he may yet change 
his opinion. It has come to me that at one time 
your daughter was intimate with a young Gentile 
* — that she even visited his father’s house. The 
Church has declared many who have done less 
to be apostates, and has excommunicated them, to 
their eternal damnation.” 

“ Samson told me that young Briant was at 
college in the East.” 

“ Does he write to your daughter, and she to 
him?” 

“I do not know.” 

“ You could easily learn from the postmaster. 
He is one of the faithful.” 

“ I will see him.” 

“ Does she visit your son’s wife? ” 

“ I do not know.” 

“Your son will tell you. You have not that 
knowledge of your own family that you should 
have. You might neglect the Church’s interests, 
were you in a high position.” 

Jason felt that the President was undermining 


AN OFFERING TO MOLOCH 109 

him, preparatory to blasting his great ambition, 
but his next words reassured him. 

“ I wish your daughter Flora to be sealed to 
me.” 

“ You offer me and my family a great honor. 
I hope my daughter will look at it as I 
do.” 

“You intend to take Sister Florence as your 
acknowledged wife.” 

“ I gave you my reasons for doing so.” 

“ Suppose you make it a condition that if your 
daughter becomes my wife you will take her 
mother to your house.” 

“But if she refuses?” 

“ Then let her remain where she is, and her 
mother, too.” 

Mr. President took some papers from the table 
and began reading them. The interview was 
ended. 

Jason Orme had never had a harder task than 
to broach the subject of a plural marriage to his 
daughter. He knew that she had had a hope- 
less love for the young Gentile. She had been 
intimate with Hilda who was a non-pluralist, and 
had had her way. This fact increased his diffi- 
culties. 

He decided that he would not mention the mat- 


no THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

ter to Sister Florence, but speak to his daughter 
alone about it. 

He began insidiously. Woman may have 
listened first to the serpent, but man has learned 
the reptile’s tricks. They were sitting together 
on the rustic seat beneath the peach trees. The 
mother was in the house suffering from a head- 
ache of which she complained — and a heartache, 
to which she never referred, but which told its 
own story in her colorless cheeks, weary eyes, and 
listless manner. 

Flora was startled by her father’s abrupt ques- 
tion. 

“ Have you heard from Franklin Briant since 
he went to college? ” 

She flushed, and answered, faintly, “ No, 
father.” 

“He has not written to you?” 

“ No, father.” 

“ It is well that it is so. He has, no doubt, 
found one of his own faith. Oil and water will 
not mix. Nor can a Mormon and Gentile live 
together as man and wife.” 

Flora knew this, but her heart had told her 
that love is not governed by creeds. All that she 
could do was to love, and be faithful, even if her 
lover had proved faithless. 


AN OFFERING TO MOLOCH hi 


Her father’s next question was, 

“You love your mother?” 

“ Dearly,” cried Flora. “ She is my best 
friend.” 

“ What would you do to make her happy? ” 

“ There is nothing you could ask me to do that 
I would not do for her sake.” 

The serpent had done his work. The victim 
was ready for the sacrifice. 

“ You said your mother was your best friend. 
There is one more powerful.” 

Flora looked up at the sky above her. 

“ You mean our Heavenly Father. I pray to 
him every day to send her happiness.” 

“It is in your power to give her that hap- 
piness.” 

“How, father? Tell me how?” 

“ You know that my wife, Jane, has been taken 
home? ” 

“ Hilda told me so.” 

“ Does she visit you often?” 

“ Only this once since she was married. She 
is so happy.” 

“ Did she come to tell you that? ” 

“ No. To tell us of your loss.” 

“ Then your mother knows. Whom does she 
think I will choose to take Jane’s place?” 


1 12 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ She has not spoken of it.” 

“ I am going to take your mother to my house 
as my acknowledged wife.” 

“Oh, my dear, dear father!” cried Flora in 
her transport of joy. She threw her arms about 
his neck and kissed him. Then she shrank back; 
it was years since she had shown to him any mark 
of affection, or he to her. 

“ I do this,” said he, “ by permission of the 
President; but he makes a condition. And if that 
condition is fulfilled, he will also make me one 
of his Councilors. If not, your mother and you 
will have to remain here, and I shall lose a great 
honor, — one, I confess, that I have sought all 
my life.” 

“ I wish that I could help you.” 

“ You are the only one who can.” 

“ I do not understand you, father.” 

“ You said that God came before your mother. 
But He has a vicegerent on earth, — the President, 
— and he — ” 

He stopped, for the girl was looking at him 
with whitened face and clasped hands. To the 
virgin soul God sends warnings of impending evil. 

Her father finished his speech. 

“ The President wishes to make you his wife.” 

The blow had fallen, but Flora bore it bravely. 


AN OFFERING TO MOLOCH 113 

Her soul revolted at the proposal, but she calmly 
considered the question before her. She could 
never be Franklin’s wife. He had forgotten her. 
Hilda would upbraid her, but she had no mother 
to love and serve. When she had regained her 
composure, she asked, 

“ May I speak to mother? ” 

“ Not unless you accept the condition. It 
would only increase her sorrow to know that you 
preferred your own happiness to hers.” 

Nothing that he might have said could have 
had a more potent influence. She would make 
this sacrifice to insure her mother’s happiness. 
She would bury the love that had been her great 
joy and pride, and weep no tears over it. That 
was only a dream, but her love for her mother 
was a reality, and she would sanctify that love* 
No matter what others said, no matter what be- 
fell her, her heart would never reproach her for 
her act. But she could not say to her father, “ I 
will become his wife.” Her words meant the 
same, — “ I accept the condition.” 

No date was fixed, and for nearly a month 
Flora kept her secret in her own bosom. It tore 
her heart-strings, it burned into her brain; but she 
spoke not a word to her mother, nor to Hilda, 
who came again, this time to tell her the hap- 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


114 

piness that was in her own heart, — she was to 
become a mother. 

One moonlight night she was in the garden, 
under the peach trees, when she heard the rattle 
of wheels. She looked into the road. A closed 
carriage had stopped before the house. Three 
men and a woman alighted and went in. Who 
could they be? Womanlike she had given some 
thought to her coming marriage. As her future 
husband was the head of the Church it would, 
no doubt, be in the Endowment House, the mys- 
teries of which she was to learn. 

She went back to the garden and resumed her 
seat. Two figures came from the back door and 
approached her. Both were men. One took her 
hand in his and stood with her beneath the tree. 
The moon was obscured and she could not see 
his face. The other man stood before them and 
said some words so fast and indistinctly that she 
could only imagine their meaning. When the 
ceremony, whatever it was, was over, the man 
went away hurriedly. 

The one who had taken her hand said: 

“ Sister Flora, you are mine for time, and all 
eternity. Remain here until I come for you. I 
have brought you a companion.” 

She sank upon the seat and closed her eyes. 


AN OFFERING TO MOLOCH 115 

She heard the sound of carriage wheels, and 
opened them again — she was alone. 

And these few mumbled words had made her 
a plural wife — had shut her off from all her 
once fond hopes of love and happiness. This 
was her bridal eve! She shut her eyes; but 
Franklin stood before them, with a look upon his 
face that filled her with shame. 

“ I did it for my mother’s sake,” she cried, and 
cast herself upon her knees on the green turf. 
There was no response. She looked up. There 
was no one there — the cloud had passed away 
and the moon shone on her, as it does on the just 
and the unjust, the happy and the unloved. 

When she became calm, she went in. She 
searched every room in the house. There was 
no one there, besides herself, but the “ com- 
panion ” who had been furnished her. The 
“ condition ” had been fulfilled, and her mother 
was in her father’s house. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A PLURAL WIFE 

'C'LORA went to her room, but not to sleep. 
A She sat at the window and looked at the 
moon, — so calm and peaceful, — while in her 
heart there raged a tempest of hate and loathing 
for what she had done. Hilda had been noble 
and brave and victorious, while she — But 
Hilda had no mother to make happy; then she 
reproached herself for her wicked thoughts. 

The dismal night had passed and crimson tints 
in the East — where Franklin was — heralded 
the dawn of another day. The first day of her 
wedded life, what Franklin had called a “ honey- 
moon.” But she had been spared her husband’s 
presence — that was some relief. 

She went down-stairs. She looked faded and 
weary, as she was. She did not intend to eat any- 
thing. She was not hungry, but a savory odor 
came from the kitchen and her body craved sus- 
tenance. She would have resisted the demand, 
had not her companion opened the door and said, 
“ Breakfast is ready.” 

116 


A PLURAL WIFE 


ii7 

She ate mechanically at first, but the food was 
appetizing and well cooked, and at last she en- 
joyed the meal. 

The woman, without invitation, had sat at the 
table with her. This woman was her servant, but 
she had no wish to assert her superiority. Had 
she any right to, — she, a plural wife? She had 
no husband, as Hilda had, — only a divided in- 
terest in one, a man, whose face she had not 
seen, — who had told her she was his “ for time 
and all eternity,” then had left her. 

Who and what was her companion? She had 
a right to know that. The woman was very old, 
and, at first glance, repulsive in appearance. But 
her eye was kindly, and there was a look of sad- 
ness in her face. 

“ What is your name? ” asked Flora. 

“ I am called Sister Elizabeth.” 

“ Then you are married.” 

“ I was. My husband is dead.” 

“Were you his only wife?” 

“ We who are called ‘ sisters ’ are not. I was 
one of four, but I was the first one.” 

“Were you with him when he died?” 

There was sadness in her voice as she replied, 
“No; the last and youngest one was with him.” 

“ But you?” 


1 1 8 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ When I was young, I was pretty — not beau- 
tiful as you are — ” 

Flora shook her head deprecatingly. 

The woman added, “ You see what I am now 
— what you may become, if you are doomed to 
lead the life I have, and live to be as old.” 

“ Do you believe in such marriages? You 
know what I mean,” and Flora felt her cheeks 
grow hot as she remembered what she was. 

There was a sullen tone in the woman’s voice. 

“ What difference does it make what you or 
I believe? We are Mormons. We must believe 
what the Church says is right, or leave it. If we 
become apostates, will the Gentiles take care of 
us? They wish to break down our system, but 
what will they give us in its place? It is easy 
to tear down, but hard to build up. Of one thing 
you may be sure — whether we remain as we are, 
or a change comes, it is the women who will suf- 
fer.” 

The day and evening were spent by Flora in 
fear and trembling that her husband would come. 
It was not until nearly midnight that her fears 
vanished and she sought her bed. A month 
passed, and her feeling of suspense had been 
dulled by time, that cure-all. One morning Sis- 
ter Elizabeth said: 


A PLURAL WIFE 119 

“ I had word from the city last night after you 
had gone to bed. You will have a visitor to-day, 
— someone you will be glad to see.” 

“ Is it my mother, or Hilda? ” cried Flora. 

“ I am not to tell you. It is to be a surprise. 
You must look your prettiest.” 

Flora’s heart beat fast. “ Is he coming? ” she 
demanded. 

The woman had received her orders and dared 
not disobey, but she prevaricated. 

“ As I told you, it is to be a pleasant surprise. 
But rest easy. A husband, especially one so 
powerful as yours, does not think it necessary to 
send word that he is going to visit his wife.” 

This was not conclusive, but the woman would 
say no more. 

Flora put on her blue dress and sat at the 
window, expectantly, during the long, long day. 
No one came. She waited until nine o’clock, then 
went, disappointedly, to her room. As she was 
getting into bed she thought she heard voices in 
the room below. That could not be — no one 
would come at such a late hour. She did not put 
out her light, but lay and listened. 

There was a firm step upon the stair; a moment 
later her door was thrown open and a man en- 
tered, — a man she had never seen before. She 


i2o THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


tried to scream, but no sound came. She was 
paralyzed with fear and shame. 

“ Are you not glad to see me, Sister Flora? I 
should have came long before, but my Church 
duties have been very exacting, and two of my 
wives and three of my children have been quite 
ill. I am on my way to Manti to visit the Temple 
there. I wish I could be with you longer, but 
can only stay three days.” 

Not a word of love in his words, not a look 
of love in his eye, which showed only the lust- 
ful selfishness of man. 

It was the night of the second day when Flora 
was awakened by a loud knocking at the front 
door. Her husband did not hear, for he did not 
move nor speak. Angry voices were heard, then 
words spoken in a tone of command. Still her 
husband slept on. Then came a loud crash which 
shook the house. Her husband leaped from the 
bed and ran to the window. Hasty steps were 
heard on the stairs, the door was thrown open, 
and three men entered the room. Flora saw and 
heard no more, for she covered her head with the 
bed-clothes. She was nearly suffocated before 
she ventured to lift the clothes and look about 
the room. The light was still burning — her hus- 
band was not there — she was alone — but why? 


CHAPTER XV 


WHO CAUSED THE ARREST? 

HE accused was taken before a magistrate 



and charged with a statutory offense by the 
officers who had arrested him. He was released 
on his own recognizance that he would appear for 


trial. 


A chain of circumstances, each trivial in itself, 
had led to the descent upon the house on the 
South Road. Samson Orme was pleased to find 
Sister Florence (now Mrs. Jason Orme) seated 
at the head of his father’s table, an acknowledged 
wife; but he could not understand why Flora had 
not accompanied her. His business affairs, now 
in a most prosperous condition, and the expected 
addition to his family, prevented his visiting his 
father’s house. Thus a month passed. He was 
now the proud father of a daughter, who had 
been named Amy, for Hilda’s mother, and he was 
at liberty to make certain inquiries that were in 
his mind, the lack of answer to which troubled him 
greatly. 

Alone with his father, he came decidedly to the 
point. 


121 


122 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ Father, why doesn’t Flora come to live here 
with her mother? ” 

“ She prefers to remain where she is.” 

“ What, alone in that house so far away from 
everybody? ” 

“She is not alone; she has a companion.” 

“ Who is she? ” 

“ A reputable woman, — a widow.” 

This evasive reply aroused Samson’s suspicions, 
but he knew that it was useless to ask his father 
for further information. He must find out for 
himself. Hilda was unable to leave her baby and 
go on such a long trip. If there was no reason 
to worry, he did not wish to have his father learn 
that he had made any investigation. 

The conversation with his father had taken 
place in his store on the morning of the day, dur- 
ing the night of which Flora had been surprised 
by the visit from her husband. Among Samson’s 
Gentile friends was a young fellow named James 
Peters. He was inclined to be “ sporty,” as the 
saying is, and wore the flashiest neckties that Sam- 
son could be induced to purchase, but which were 
kept in a box by themselves. 

“ Jim, do you ever go over the South Road? ” 

“ Every time I go fishing in the Jordan.” 

“ Did you ever notice a house, the last on the 


WHO CAUSED THE ARREST? 123 

left I think, with a peach orchard behind it?” 

“ You’re joking me. Don’t I know that’s 
where your wife used to live? ” 

“ That’s all right, Jim. My sister is living out 
there now. Will you take something out to her 
that father wants to send her? I’ll give you your 
choice of neckties.” 

“ Of course, I’ll go. No matter about the 
necktie. You’ve done me lots of favors.” 

“ Jim, do you know by sight any of the Mor- 
mon officials?” 

“ The whole raft, — the Prex. and his dozen 
’postles. They make a baker’s dozen.” 

“ Can you go to-day? ” 

“ I’d rather not. I’m going to take my girl 
for a drive.” 

“ To-morrow morning, then. I’ll have the 
package ready for you this evening, so you can 
start early.” 

When Jim came back the next afternoon his 
face showed that he had something important to 
communicate. 

“ Did you see my sister? ” 

“ No, an old woman came to the door. She 
said Sister Flora was not up yet. That she wasn’t 
feeling well.” 

“ Sister Flora.” The words rang in Samson’s 


124 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


ears. Why that name? She was his sister, but 
others had no reason to call her so — unless? 
Could it be that she was married? He was not 
obliged to ask the question. 

“ There was somebody else there,” said Jim. 

“ Who was she? Did you know her? ” 

“ It was a man. I saw him in the garden.” 

“Who was it?” 

“ You’d give all the neckties in your store to 
know.” 

“ Tell me, Jim. That’s what I sent you out 
there for.” 

“Was it? I thought something was up, and 
that’s why I got up in a tree and roosted there 
more’n an hour before he came out for an airing.” 

“Who was he, Jim? You shall have all the 
neckties. There’s a dozen of them.” 

“ It was the Great Mogul himself.” 

“ What! — the President?” 

“ The identical individual. I’ll take the neck- 
ties, not for doing the errand for your sister, but 
for my professional services as detective. Do you 
want me to follow him? ” 

Samson controlled his indignation until Jim had 
taken his pay and gone. Flora married — she a 
plural wife — and the President her husband, in 
defiance of the law, and regardless of the Mani- 


WHO CAUSED THE ARREST? 125 

festo which he himself had sanctioned and sup- 
ported in public. The hypocrite ! But what was 
to be done? He could expect no help from his 
father. At dinner, however, he did ask him a 
question. 

“ Are you very busy to-day, father?’’ 

“ Yes. The President has gone to Manti. He 
will be away for a week. The First Councilor is 
sick abed, and I have charge of all the Church 
affairs.” 

Samson was convinced. The President had 
gone to Manti. He had taken the South Road, 
and had stopped on the way. His sister must 
be saved from such a life. No time must be lost. 
Perhaps even now it was too late. To whom 
could he go for assistance? No Mormon would 
aid him. Then he thought of Franklin but he 
was far away. But Mr. Briant was there. 
What an item that would be for his paper! 

He found Mr. Briant in his sanctum, and told 
him his story. The editor saw what a weapon 
it would be in his hands in his warfare against 
those who indorsed the Manifesto in public, but 
disobeyed it in private. 

“ Can you — will you do anything to save 
her? ” asked Samson, with tears in his eyes, and a 
sob in his throat. 


126 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ Leave it all to me, Samson. You must not 
be known in it. You say Jim Peters found it out? 
He’s one of us. If he gets drawn in, he will say 
he was on a fishing trip.” 

Then he thought of the letter that Franklin 
had enclosed for Flora. When he had received 
it, he had decided not to deliver it. The affair 
could not end happily. There was a chasm that 
could not be bridged, unless the girl recanted 
from her faith. His conscience had troubled him, 
however, for he had told his wife and his son 
that he would deliver any letter enclosed to him. 
He had been to the house in Sixth North 
street and found it closed. He did not know 
Flora’s address, so he had put the letter 
away and had dismissed the subject from his 
mind. 

But matters were now changed. Flora’s name 
would be brought before the public, Franklin 
would learn the truth, and that his letter had not 
been delivered. 

“ Samson, will you do me a great favor — not 
now, but in a few days, when this matter is 
settled?” 

“ Anything I can do for you, Mr. Briant, will 
be a poor return, if you can rescue my sister from 
that house of shame.” 


WHO CAUSED THE ARREST? 127 

Mr. Briant took the letter from a private 
drawer. 

“ Have this reach your sister. Jim can get it 
to her without any one’s knowing it. We will 
bag our game this very night. Jim will show us 
the way. You must know and do nothing.” 

Samson could not keep such a secret from his 
wife. She wished to go to Flora at once, but 
her husband showed her the folly of such a course, 
— which could not help Flora, but would im- 
plicate them irretrievably. 

The next morning the news of the President’s 
arrest was known throughout the city. The Star t 
an evening paper, issued a morning “ extra.” 
The Gentiles were jubilant — this was a master 
stroke. The Mormons were defiant, — and con- 
fident : God would not desert his representative on 
earth. 

Samson read the Star; then he went to see his 
father. 

“ I know now, father, why Flora remains at 
the house on the South Road.” 

“ Yes, she is married.” 

“And why? She was always opposed to a 
plural marriage. What made her change her 
mind?” 

“ She wished to please her mother.” 


128 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ Then you had a hand in this. I thought so. 
The President makes you one of his Councilors 
for a bribe, and you pay the price by giving him 
your daughter. Father, I am ashamed of you. 
Could you not take your wife home without his 
consent? ” 

He thought for a moment — then he said: 

“ I see it all now. You would not take her 
mother home unless Flora consented to a plural 
marriage, and the poor, loving girl made the 
sacrifice. When Franklin Briant learns of this, 
there will be a reckoning.” 

“ I suppose you will tell him,” said his father 
calmly. 

“No, I am not a traitor. I am a Mormon; 
but the Manifesto is God’s law, and those who 
break it must bear the punishment.” 

“ Will God choose Franklin Briant as his in- 
strument?” There was a sarcastic tone in this 
question. 

“ He may, father. All His creatures are but 
reeds in His hands.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 

Monday morning the judge took his seat 
and the court was opened. The accused sat 
in the prisoner’s dock, his brow unruffled, and his 
demeanor calm. The judge was a Mormon, as 
were the prosecutor and the attorney for the de- 
fense. The magistrate who had issued the war- 
rant was a Gentile, as were the three officers 
who had served it. The court room was crowded, 
three-fourths of those present being of the faith- 
ful. 

The officers gave their testimony incriminating 
the accused; Flora’s name was not mentioned; 
she was referred to as “ a woman.” The prose- 
cutor called no other witnesses and did not cross- 
examine the officers. 

The attorney for the defense arose. A sensa- 
tion ran through the audience when Madison 
Briant was called to the stand. 

“ Your name?” 

“ Madison Briant.” 


129 


1 3 o THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ You are editor of a newspaper called the 
Star?” 

“ Editor and proprietor.” 

“ Did you obtain the warrant for the arrest 
of the accused?” 

“I did” 

“ In what capacity? ” 

“ As a citizen of the State, who respects and 
obeys its laws.” 

“ It was not done in your capacity as editor 
then?” 

“ My duty as editor is to print the news not to 
make it.” 

“ But you made it in this case. ” 

There was a loud murmur of approbation from 
the audience at this sally. 

“ From whom did you obtain the information 
upon which to base the warrant? ” 

41 1 refuse to tell.” 

“ Was it from a Mormon? ” 

“ I refuse to — ” the witness hesitated, then 
said, “ it was from a Gentile.” 

“ Have you any objection to giving his name? ” 

“ I prefer not to do so.” 

There was a murmur of disapprobation this 
time at the answer. 

“ It is immaterial,” said the attorney. “ Are 


THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 13 1 

you aware of the pains and penalties for per- 
jury? ” 

“ I am.” 

“ One more question. Did you send the Gentile 
to obtain the information?” 

“ I did not.” 

“ That is sufficient.” 

Mr. Briant stepped down from the witness 
stand. 

The Second Councilor Jason Orme was the next 
witness. 

“ What day did the President start for 
Manti?” 

“ Last Tuesday.” 

“Were you left in charge of the office?” 

“ I was, owing to the illness of the First Coun- 
cilor.” 

“ Did you tell anybody where the President had 
gone? ” 

“ Many who came to the office noticed his ab- 
sence and asked where he was.” 

“And you told them?” 

“ Yes.” 

“Did any Gentile ask you where he was?” 

“ I should not have told him, if he had.” 

“ Did you mention his absence to any one out- 
side of the office? ” 


i3 2 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ To one person only.” 

“ Who was that? ” 

“ My son Samson.” 

“ That will do,” and Councilor Orme was ex- 
cused. , 

The next witness was Mrs. Hilda Orme, and 
she came with her young baby in her arms. Her 
husband had cautioned her to be careful in her 
testimony, and not to say anything to incriminate 
him. 

“ Your name? ” asked the attorney. 

“ Mrs. Hilda Orme.” 

“ What is your husband’s name? ” 

“ Samson Orme.” 

“ Where did he first mention to you the ac- 
cused’s connection with this case? ” 

Hilda hesitated. “ I do not just remember.” 

“ Try and collect your thoughts.” 

His voice was pleasant, his manner deferential. 

“ Was it on Tuesday, the day that his father 
told him of the President’s visit to Manti?” 

“ I am sure it was not.” 

“ Then it must have been on Friday, the day 
that the Star printed the particulars.” 

Hilda fell into the trap. 

“ No, it was the evening before.” 

“ That is sufficient,” said the attorney. 


THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 133 

The defense had learned all that it wished to 
know. On Tuesday Samson Orme had been told 
of the President’s visit to Manti. On Wednes- 
day the unknown Gentile had seen him at the 
house on the South Road in which Samson’s sister 
lived. On Thursday Mr. Briant, the Church’s 
enemy, had obtained the warrant, and the arrest 
had taken place. Mr. Briant had not sent the 
Gentile to spy upon the President, but that Thurs- 
day evening, before the arrest, Samson Orme had 
told his wife that it was to take place! There 
was no doubt in the minds of the hierarchy that 
Samson Orme, the son of one of the President’s 
advisers, had proved a traitor to his faith. He 
was worse than an apostate. He had planned and 
succeeded in defiling the name of the Church and 
of the Prophet who was at its head. 

Their deductions were correct in the main; but 
not entirely so; but the exact facts would not have 
helped the prisoner. He had not gone from the 
city until Wednesday night, owing to the sudden 
illness of one of his wives. Samson had not sent 
Peters on his errand until Thursday, as Pet- 
ers had an engagement on Wednesday, when 
Samson had first mentioned the proposed trip to 
him. He had reported his discovery Thursday 
afternoon. Samson had at once gone to Mr. Bri- 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


i34 

ant. The warrant had been obtained by him, the 
arrest made that night, and the Star’s employes 
were called in early in the morning to get out the 
“ extra,” the material for which had been pre- 
pared by Mr. Briant after midnight, which shows 
that, although circumstantial evidence may be 
deemed conclusive, there are often unexplained dis- 
crepancies in its details. 

Hilda was unconscious that her testimony had 
completed the evidence against her husband, and 
he was thinking of his sister’s fate rather than his 
own position in the matter. 

“ The offense seems clearly proven,” said the 
judge to the accused. “ Have you anything to 
say why sentence should not be pronounced? ” 

The accused stood up ; the faithful bowed their 
heads and breathed mute prayers to God in their 
leader’s behalf. 

His voice was firm, as he said, “ In my con- 
duct I am governed by the laws of God. The 
laws of man are contrary to his commands. In 
His eyes I am innocent; in the eyes of man I am 
guilty. It is no dishonor to pay the penalty in- 
flicted by an unjust law.” 

The judge arose. 

“ The sentence of the court is that you pay a 
fine of three hundred dollars.” 


THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW 135 

The faithful breathed freely. They had feared 
the sentence would be imprisonment. A score or 
more of the wealthy Mormons pressed forward 
and offered to pay the fine, but the offers were re- 
fused and the President passed the money to the 
clerk. Those who were too poor to offer such 
financial homage placed the halo of a martyr upon 
his head. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Hilda's baby 

T\yT R. BRIANT had arranged his business af- 
fairs so that he could be absent for an en- 
tire day, and the projected trip to the Great Salt 
Lake was to become a fact, much to Sukey’s de- 
light She was the first one up in the house, and 
when called to breakfast came in, with an old tin 
can in one hand half filled with squirming earth 
worms; in the other hand was a limb of a tree, 
stripped of its branches and leaves, with a stout 
cord fastened to the taper end. 

“ I’m nearly ready,” said she. 

“ For what? ” was Mr. Briant’s puzzled in- 
quiry, as he regarded her outfit. 

“ To go a-fishing, of course,” she replied. 
“ All I want is some fish-hooks.” 

Mr. Briant laughed heartily. 

“ Oh, I see now. You are going to fish in the 
lake. You won’t find anything living in it but a 
salt-water shrimp that is not worth the catching. 
You might induce one of the water-fowl to grab 
your bait, if you could get near enough to him.” 

136 


HILDA’S BABY 


137 


Sukey was disheartened. She had looked for- 
ward to a day of sport. She had caught a horn- 
pout once and had kept him alive for a week in 
an old pork barrel, feeding him a dozen times a 
day with flies and bread crumbs. She found it 
floating on its back one morning, to her great 
grief, — dead, probably, from acute indigestion 
caused by over-feeding. That was in her old 
home in Connecticut. The disconsolate Sukey 
emptied the worms upon the grass, threw her fish- 
ing-pole into the cellar, and took her place at the 
table, with an aggrieved look upon her face. 

“ When we get to the lake, Sukey, I will ex- 
plain to you why fish cannot live in it.” 

“ Father told me the reason my hornpout died 
was because the water in the old pork barrel was 
too salt.” 

“ That’s the trouble with the Great Salt Lake,” 
said Mr. Briant, “ it’s just like your pork barrel, 
only more so.” 

After an early breakfast they started off, — 
Sukey, with her uncle and aunt and cousin Ger- 
trude, the house being left in charge of the 
servants. The carriage held four; there were 
two horses pawing the ground and anxious to be 
off. A servant put a basket containing the lunch 
under the front seat, Mr. Briant grasped the 


138 the house of shame 

reins, Sukey cried “ Get up ! ” in which she was 
joined by a dozen or more children who were 
gathered upon the sidewalk, and the journey was 
begun. 

“ It’s a good twelve miles,” said Mr. Briant 
to Miss Priscilla, “ but we’ll give the horses a 
long rest at the lake ; and, on our way back, we’ll 
pay that promised visit to Mrs. Samson Orme. I 
want to see that baby that her husband talks so 
much about.” 

Sukey’s eyes brightened. She was more inter- 
ested in babies than in fish, and her early morn- 
ing disappointment was forgotten. 

As they were nearing the lake, Sukey cried, 
“ Oh, see the big hills.” 

“ Those are the Wahsatch mountains. We 
are nearly five thousand feet above the sea- 
level.” 

“ The road wasn’t steep,” said Miss Priscilla. 
“ Not half as hilly as it is at home.” 

“ I don’t mean that,” said Mr. Briant. “ What 
I mean is this: if the Pacific ocean should come 
rolling in toward us, where we are now would be 
nearly a mile up in the air above it.” 

“ Is it as big as the ocean? ” asked Sukey, with 
wondering eyes, as she looked at the lake. 

“ No, it covers about twenty-five hundred 


HILDA’S BABY 


i39 

square miles — it’s about half as large as the 
whole State of Connecticut.” 

They reached the lake, and ate their lunch near 
the shore. Sukey wished to taste the water, but 
her aunt sternly forbade her doing so. 

“ You don’t want to die the way the hornpout 
did, do you? ” her aunt asked, and Sukey lost all 
desire to imbibe. 

Mr. Briant, being an editor, was acquainted 
with statistics of all kinds. 

“ It used to contain about twenty-three per 
|cent. salt, but so much fresh water comes into 
the lake from the river Jordan that the salt has 
fallen to fifteen per cent.” 

“How salt is that?” asked Sukey, to whom 
“ per cent.” was an unknown and incomprehensible 
term. 

Her uncle answered, “ Well, if you should take 
twenty-one teaspoonfuls of fresh water and put 
in three teaspoonfuls of salt, you’d have Great 
Salt Lake water right in your own house.” 

On their way home Sukey, who was on the 
front seat, seemed very nervous and glanced anx- 
iously right and left at each street as they passed 
it. 

“ What are you looking for? ” her uncle said. 

“ You haven’t forgotten that baby, have you? ” 


140 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ Oh, no. That baby* is several miles from 
here, but I promise you not to go by Sixth North 
street when we come to it.” 

Sukey was pacified, but waited impatiently. 

At last they turned into a side street, but the 
speed of the horses was not slackened. 

“Where’s the house?” cried Sukey unable to 
restrain her feelings any longer. 

“ The last one on the right,” was the reply, 
and in a few minutes they drew up before it. 

Hilda had met Mr. Briant many times, and 
her husband often spoke of him, and she wel- 
comed her visitors cordially. The usual com- 
monplaces about health and the weather were 
said; then the conversation lagged. 

“ My niece here is very anxious to see some- 
thing that you possess, Mrs. Orme,” said Mr. 
Briant. 

“What is it, dear?” and Hilda looked smil- 
ingly at Sukey, who seemed abashed. 

“ Don’t be foolish, child,” and Miss Priscilla’s 
look was not a smile. 

“ The baby,” said Sukey faintly. 

Hilda left the room, but returned quickly, bear- 
ing little Amy in her arms. 

“ She doesn’t look like me, nor like her father. 
Whom do you think she resembles, Mr. Briant? ” 


HILDA’S BABY 


141 

That letter came to his mind again. The child 
was the image, in many respects, of Flora Orme 
— the same blue eyes, light hair, and fair skin. 

“ She makes me think of Flora,” said he. 
“ Have you seen her since the — ” he stopped 
short. He would not say marriage — but what 
could he say? 

Hilda interpreted his silence. 

“ No, I have not been because I have no one 
to leave baby with.” 

That was a problem that he was unable to solve, 
but Miss Priscilla suggested a way. 

“ Would you be willing to leave your baby with 
me for a few hours some afternoon? ” 

“ Can I come too, Auntie?” asked Sukey. 

“ You’d better wait until you know I’m com- 
ing,” said Miss Priscilla, who turned to Gertrude. 
“ Couldn’t you get supper one night for your 
father?” 

The young lady thus questioned expressed her 
willingness and her confidence in her ability. 

“You see, Mrs. Orme,” said Mr. Briant, 
“ there are already three volunteers, and I will 
agree to do my part.” 

“ It is very kind of you all,” replied Hilda. 
“ I am very anxious to see Flora and do and say 
what I can to comfort her, and I shall have per- 


1 42 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

feet confidence that my baby will be in good 
hands.” 

Sukey was delighted and held out her hands to 
the baby, who laughed and showed her willing- 
ness to accept the invitation, and Hilda placed her 
in Sukey’ s lap. Sukey had a doll at home nearly 
as large as Amy and she knew how to hold the 
child in true, motherly fashion. Mr. Briant felt 
that he could now atone in some degree for hold- 
ing back that letter. 

“ I will send a driver with the carriage, Mrs. 
Orme. He will take you to Flora’s house and 
bring you back. That will give you more time 
for your visit to her, or bring you home quickly, 
if you have any worry about the baby.” His con- 
science heartily approved his action. 

“ You are very kind,” said Hilda, “ and I ac- 
cept with pleasure.” 

The next morning about eleven o’clock Miss 
Priscilla saw Sukey go into the pantry. Think- 
ing she had gone for a cake, she asked no ques- 
tions and did not notice her when she went into 
the garden. Very soon she heard some one 
coughing violently. She went to the back door 
and looked out. There stood Sukey coughing and 
retching, her eyes full of tears. In her hand she 
held a small tin dipper. 


HILDA’S BABY 


143 

“What’s the matter with you? What have 
you been drinking? ” 

Between coughs Sukey managed to say, 

“ I wanted to see what the Great Salt Lake 
tasted like, and it nearly choked me.” 

“ More fool you,” exclaimed Miss Priscilla. 
“ Get some fresh water and reuse your mouth out, 
and then come in and wash the potatoes for din- 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE CONFIDANTES 

^TS Flora Orme at home? ” 

A It was Hilda who asked the question and 
Sister Elizabeth who replied: 

“ Sister Flora lives here. She is in her room.” 

Hilda turned to the driver. 

“ You will wait for me. I shall not be long. ,, 

She entered the house and followed Sister 
Elizabeth up-stairs. The latter pointed to a 
closed door. 

“ That is her room.’’ 

Hilda tried the handle, but the door would not 
open. Then she knocked. There was no re- 
sponse. She knocked again, louder than before. 

“ Who is it? ” The voice sounded muffled. 

“ It is I,— Hilda.” 

The bolt was shot back, the door thrown wide 
open, and in a moment they were clasped in each 
other’s arms. 

“ Did you bring the baby? ” was Flora’s first 
question. 

144 


THE CONFIDANTES 


i45 

“ No, Mr. Briant’s sister-in-law is taking care 
of her.” 

Flora was silent, and the two girls sat and 
looked at each other. 

Hilda spoke: 

“I am not going to say, ‘How could you?* 
I know. Samson has told me all. You are a 
noble girl to sacrifice your life for your mother’s 
happiness, but it was a terrible price to pay. 
Have you seen your mother since? ” 

“ No; nor my father. I am alone, deserted by 
every one but you.” 

“ Pardon me, Flora, but have you heard from 
Franklin? ” 

“ I have a letter from him, written nearly a 
year ago. It came too late.” 

She bowed her head, and the tears fell. 

“ Where had it been all that time — in the post- 
office?” 

“ No; there was no stamp upon it.” 

“ It must have been sent to his father; but why 
did he deliver it at all?” 

“ I don’t know. A young man brought it. 
I asked no questions.” 

“ Was it important? ” 

“ Oh, Hilda, had I received that letter 
when I should have done so, I would have 


1 46 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

died rather than become the thing that I am.” 

“ What did he say? ” 

“ You may read it.” She took it from her 
bosom — and Hilda read: 

“ My Darling: 

“ I am not going to blame you for not meeting me, for I 
know you were unable to do so. They took you away, for I 
found the house closed. 

“ How I wish you were with me in this lovely village. The 
pure air, the honest faces, and clean lives of the people all lead 
me to one conclusion, — I am never coming back to live in Utah. 

“ When I have finished my studies, I shall live here in the 
East. And forsake you, my loved one ? No, but you must come 
to me. You must escape the fate they will try to force upon 
you. It will be a hard fight to keep them at bay until I can 
support you. 

“ Perhaps you will say, ‘ Become a Mormon, Frank, and do 
not take me from my mother.’ If I did that, — and I would for 
your love, — they might force me to take a plural wife, as they 
may Samson some day — ” 

Hilda stopped reading. 

“ I don’t fear that, Flora. My husband has a 
strong will. He has a good paying business, 
and many influential friends among the Gentiles. 
I can trust Samson against them all.” 

“ As I would Franklin, were he mine. But 
finish it, Hilda. There is little more.” 

“ ‘ Some day ’ — yes, that is where I left off 
‘ and then we would both be miserable.’ ” 


THE CONFIDANTES 


147 

“ As I am now! ” cried Flora, her tears flow- 
ing afresh. “ Thank God he does not know what 
I have become.” 

Hilda read on: 


“ There is no safety for us, only in being beyond that influence 
that frightens weak men and ruins the brave ones. 

“With my undying love for you and faith in you, 

“ Your devoted 

“ Franklin. 

“ P. S. Write me at Boston — General Delivery. I shall be 
there in a few days.” 


“Have you answered his letter?” 

“No. What could I say? Tell him of my 
shame? If he has not forgotten me, he must do 
so.” 

“ I will write to him, and tell him the truth,” 
said Hilda. 

“ No, no ! I beg you not to. I am dead to 
him — to everyone, but you. Promise me you 
will not write to him.” 

Hilda promised, and rose to go. 

“ You will bring the baby next time, won’t 
you? I so long to see her. Is she like you?” 

“ Not like me at all, or Samson either. If you 
had her in your arms, everybody would say she 
was your child.” 


i 4 8 the house of shame 

“ I wish she was — no, forgive me. I did not 
mean that — but I wish — ” 

“What, dear?” And Hilda put her arm 
around Flora’s neck and kissed her. 

“ I wish I had some one to love all the time, 
and to love me — that I could take in my arms 
and press to my bosom — ” 

“ And have it call you mamma as Amy does 
me. 

“ Yes, to hear it say mamma, and know it was 
mine — all mine. That is what my heart 
yearns for.” 

“Has he been here again?” asked Hilda, as 
they parted. 

“ No. I keep my door bolted. He shall never 
enter my room again and find me alive.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE IRON HAND 

/ TpHE President’s companion was short in stat- 
ure but rotund in body. He had a smiling, 
smooth-shaven face and kindly eyes that would 
attract children and gain the confidence of women. 
He was a missionary who had just returned from 
Idaho and Montana to make his report to the 
head of the Church. 

“ And you say, Bishop, that our Church is 
growing fast where you have been.” 

“ Very fast. Our communities receive acces- 
sions almost daily.” 

“ Which is the best port of entry for our con- 
verts from Europe?” 

“ Boston, by all means. They give their des- 
tination as Lowell or Lawrence, those great mill 
towns, and there is no question. When there, it 
is easy to arrange for their departure for the 
West.” 

“You have been very successful, Bishop. 
There are few workers in the Lord’s vineyard 
who have done so much, with so little reward; but 
149 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


150 

there are vacancies above which must be filled.” 

There was a vacancy that the Bishop hoped to 
fill some day, but he was too politic to mention 
it He only said, 

“ I work for the good of the Church, not for 
personal reward.” 

“ The Church will not be ungrateful,” said the 
President. “ I am going to send you into a new 
field.” 

“ Your command is God’s will.” 

“ What do you think of Arizona and perhaps 
Northern Mexico as a new field of endeavor?” 

“ We may gain converts among the women, but 
the men — ” 

“ It is the women we want. They are the 
mothers of nations. Have you thought why our 
religion appeals so strongly to women? ” 

The Bishop smiled. “ It is because I have 
thought and have learned the reason that my ef- 
forts have been successful.” 

“ And what is the reason? ” 

“ Because,” said the Bishop, “ they prefer to 
become the plural wife of a kind husband rather 
than the single wife of a drunken brute who beats 
them, or a loafer who allows them to starve. 
They prate of woman’s honor. Her greatest 
honor is motherhood. Every healthy, right- 


THE IRON HAND 


i5 1 

minded woman wishes to become a mother. They 
are not sensualists, as men so often are. Know- 
ing that there is in them a spark of divinity that 
they can embody in a human form, they choose 
the path that leads to the quickest realization of 
their wish, — the Mormon religion.” 

“ You are a radical, Bishop.” 

“ All men would be so, if they were honest. 
They are hypocrites, from selfish reasons. They 
dare not speak what they think, for it might cost 
them money or social position.” 

“ You are to have a companion on this mission, 
young Samson Orme, the son of one of my Coun- 
cilors.” 

“Is he married?” asked the Bishop. 

“ He has one wife only. I wish him to have 
more.” 

“ I understand part of my mission : I am to find 
a Delilah for your Samson.” 

“ That is my wish — even more, my command. 
There are reasons why it must be so. He 
will be slow in wooing. You must aid 
him.” 

“ I have been successful in winning, but not in 
keeping. I have had three wives, — now in 
Heaven.” 

“ You shall be sent abroad no more after this 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


152 

mission. There is yet time for you to increase 
the number of the faithful.” 

“ Does my future companion know of this mis- 
sion? ” 

“ Not yet. I wished to see you first and be 
sure of your aid. Are there not in Southern Ari- 
zona or in Northern Mexico some women with 
Spanish blood, with great beauty, fierce love, and 
bitter jealousy? ” 

“ Some descendants of the old Conquistadores 
you mean? There may be some left, but I fear 
they lack the fire of their ancestors.” 

“ Find him such a mate, if you can. His 
present wife is a woman of strong will. She 
must be confronted with one stronger than her 
own.” 

“ And we will watch the battle, but keep out of 
danger,” said the Bishop, as he took his leave. 

When Samson Orme reached his home a few 
evenings later his face wore a serious expression, 
unusual for him. He did not ask about the baby 
as was his custom, but ate his supper in silence. 
Hilda noticed his clouded brow and evident ab- 
straction, but, like a sensible woman, awaited his 
voluntary confidence instead of trying to force 
it by impatient questions. 


THE IRON HAND 


i53 

He did not mention what was on his mind 
until he returned from the store, nearly eleven 
o’clock at night. 

“ Hilda, dear, I’m in trouble.” 

“ Have you lost some money? ” 

“ No. My business was never more prosper- 
ous — that’s the reason it is so hard to leave it.” 

“ Leave it? ” cried Hilda. “ Why should you 
leave it? ” 

“ Perhaps you do not know, or have forgotten 
as I had in our present happiness, that every Mor- 
mon — man I mean — is required to spend time 
in missionary work for the advancement of the 
Church.” 

A chill struck to Hilda’s heart. 

“Yes, I knew it; but my father refused to go 
when sent.” 

“And paid the penalty, did he not? Was he 
not ruined by the power that he defied?” 

“Yes, he was, and — ” 

“ As I shall be, Hilda, unless I obey the 
Church’s commands.” 

“What are they, Samson? Do not keep me 
in suspense.” 

“ I am to be sent to Arizona and Mexico with 
the Bishop.” 

“ For how long? ” 


154 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ The usual time is two years, but the will of 
the President determines its length. He can 
make it for life, if he chooses.” 

“ What does your father say?” 

“ That I must go. Our family has been highly 
honored. Six of my brothers have been given 
high positions in the hierarchy, and my father is 
a Councilor. I am his only son who has never 
been sent on a mission.” 

Hilda remained practical. She was not one 
to indulge in hysterics or useless lamentations. 

“And your business while you are away?” 

“ The President will conduct it in my name.” 

“And my support?” 

“ You will receive what you do from me. I 
gave the President a statement of my home ex- 
penses.” 

“Was he pleasant about it?” 

“ He was very genial. He said he regretted 
sending me, but there were complaints of favor- 
itism to me. He said he mentioned the subject 
to my father, and he suggested that I be sent 
on a mission.” 

Hilda was silent for a time. “ Did you ask 
your father what he said to the President? ” 

“ No. Was it not sufficient if my father told 
me I must go ? ” 


THE IRON HAND 


155 

Woman is more suspicious than man, because 
her intuition is more acute than his reasoning. 
She reaches conclusions like a lightning flash, 
while he arrives only after a long consideration. 

“ Samson, do you think this is a plot to get 
you away from me — to make me unhappy? 
The President does not like me — I am too out- 
spoken in my opposition to plural marriage. 
Then, too, you have opposed a cardinal principle 
of the Mormon religion. Why should he regret 
making you conform to Church rules? Was his 
regret caused by the fact that it would make me 
unhappy? He must know that it would. I do 
not believe him. It is a plot, of which you and 
I and our little child are to be the victims. I 
can see it all now. He has bided his vengeance, 
but it has fallen upon us.” 

Samson endeavored to argue her out of her 
fears, and she, not to distress him, affected to be 
convinced. 

When the time came for his departure Samson 
broke down. Hilda’s foreboding had affected him 
more than he was willing to admit. 

“ Be brave, Samson,” said Hilda. “ As you 
say, you are sent to do only what all your brothers 
have done, — what all Mormons are expected to 
do. Think no more of my fears. Women often 


1 56 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

magnify trifles. But Samson, remember your 
promise. You made me your wife and said you 
would never have another while I lived. I hold 
you to that. Do your duty to the Church and 
to me. Then the Church and I will both be 
proud of you. Write to me as often as you can, 
and I will read your letters to Amy. She will not 
understand the words, but she will know that 
her mother is an honored and happy wife.” 

Thus comforted and encouraged, Samson went 
on his mission with the Bishop, who was to work 
his ruin, if it could be done. 

Busy with her household cares and that of her 
child Hilda knew nothing of her husband’s busi- 
ness, now in the hands of the President. Her in- 
come as stated by her husband was paid promptly. 
She did not know that in less than a month after 
her husband went away the sign “ Samson 
Orme & Co.” had been taken down and one 
that read “ Deseret Dry Goods Co.” had taken 
its place; that the President was agent for the 
New York Insurance Company, having reported 
that Mr. Orme had left the city; that Samson’s 
partner in the salt business, having been refused 
the financial assistance necessary to carry on the 
business, had given up the undertaking and had 
gone to Nevada to seek a fortune in the mines. 


THE IRON HAND 


i57 

Had she known these things, she could not have 
sung her baby to sleep with such happy songs, 
nor have written such cheerful, hopeful letters to 
her husband. 


CHAPTER XX 


COMPROMISED 

CAMSON and his companion, the Bishop, 
^ started on their journey southward. Had he 
been alone, Samson would have stopped to see 
his sister, but the Bishop tagged at his heels like 
a dog. He knew that the Bishop was hand in 
glove with the President and that a visit to Flora 
would be reported to him. Hilda’s words came 
back to him again and again, and he was soon con- 
vinced that his exile was to satisfy personal feel- 
ing rather than to benefit the Church. 

He became more and more confident of this 
as they progressed on their journey. When they 
were alone together the Bishop expatiated on 
the merits of the Mormon creed, dwelling par- 
ticularly upon the divine ordinance of “ celestial 
marriage.” To this Samson turned a deaf ear, 
making no comment. This apathy did not seem 
to disturb the Bishop, who returned to the sub- 
ject whenever an opportunity offered. 

One day Samson retorted: “Brother, if you 
didn’t spend so much time trying to make a plural- 
158 


COMPROMISED 


i59 

ist of me, you would have more in which to con- 
vert others.” 

To which the Bishop replied: “You remember 
the parable of the ninety and nine sheep? When 
the lost one was found the fold was complete.” 

They met with varying success, but many con- 
verts were sent north to Utah. The Bishop 
would leave Samson alone for several days at a 
time, during which he wrote long letters to Hilda. 
In one he said jokingly, “ The Bishop is trying 
to find another wife for me.” 

When Hilda read this her heartbeats quickened 
and for a moment a doubt arose in her mind. 

“ Can he resist these constant attacks, like 
water dropping upon stone?” Then her faith 
revived, and the shadow vanished from her face, 
and the commotion from her heart. 

In Mexico the missionaries found an unfertile 
field. The people were wedded to their old be- 
lief, and, after strenuous but vain efforts, the 
Bishop said: “This is the devil’s vineyard, not 
the Lord’s. We will go back to Arizona.” 

This they did, stopping not far beyond the 
boundary at the town of Calabasas. Here the 
Bishop left him for several days, and Samson 
wrote joyfully that they were on their way home. 

When the Bishop returned he was in a most 


i6o THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


amiable mood. He was so pleased about some- 
thing that Samson, contrary to his usual custom, 
asked the reason for his companion’s good na- 
ture. 

“ A convert, — one worth millions of dollars 
which she is willing to give to the Church.” 

“ Oh, it is a woman,” said Samson carelessly. 

“ A woman, yes ! ” cried the Bishop, “ in form, 
but in heart and intellect a goddess.” 

“Who is she?” asked Samson, and still his 
manner was indifferent. 

“ Her name is Inez — Inez Delora. Her 
father’s name was Wilde, but it is tainted with 
crime, and she has taken her mother’s.” 

“What was her father — a cattle thief?” 

“ No, a wealthy ranch owner. He made a 
fortune in the mines. His wife was a Spaniard, 
ardent and loving. He was cold, and neglected 
her. He caught her in an intrigue and shot her. 
He fled, but was caught and hanged, and his 
great fortune fell to his daughter — ” 

“ To be transferred to the Church,” said Sam- 
son. “ But what does she ask in return? ” 

“ Only the advantages of our religion.” 

Here the conversation dropped, and Samson 
thought no more of it. The Bishop was gone lor 
several days. When he returned he said: 


COMPROMISED 


161 


“ The senorita Delora has invited us to 
make our home at the ranch. We can carry- 
on our work much better from there than 
here.” 

Samson objected. He preferred to remain 
where he was. 

The Bishop smiled benignly. “ Did the Presi- 
dent say that I was to take my orders from you, 
or you from me? ” 

They went to the ranch and were warmly wel- 
comed by Inez. She was a glorious creature. 
Tall and lithe, with a sinuous motion, graceful 
and seductive. Dark eyes, languorous in their 
beauty, but with the hidden fire that hatred or 
jealousy could bring to them. Black hair and an 
olive skin with a rose tint completed the human 
picture which no artist could transfer to canvas 
in all its loveliness. 

Samson made a strong contrast. He was a 
handsome man, straight and athletic in build, 
Inez had seen no man like him, with blue eyes, 
tawny almost yellow hair, 'and a fresh, fair face 
in which the blood mantled as it does in that of 
a bashful boy. 

They were treated not like pilgrims, but princes. 
The richest viands and choicest wines were on 
the table, at the head of which sat Inez, resplen- 


1 62 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

dent with jewels in her hair, and on neck, bosom, 

arms, and fingers. 

“ She carries her ransom with her,” said Sam- 
son to the Bishop. 

“ Yes,” was the reply, “ and all that she is, and 
all that she has, she will gladly give to the man 
she loves.” 

“ But you said she was going to give her for- 
tune to the Church.” 

The Bishop’s reply was evasive. “ She will 
when she marries a Mormon. For she will pay 
her tithes.” 

Inez had a fine education, especially in music. 
Every evening she sang to Samson, and he could 
not deny himself such a great pleasure. One 
evening she asked him if he had ever heard the 
opera of “ Carmen.” 

“ Yes, by a poor American company,” was the 
reply. 

Inez spoke sharply. “ You should praise your 
countrymen — and women,” she added. 

“ The one who sang ‘ Carmen ’ did not have a 
voice like yours.” 

The praise was hers, and she was pleased. 

“ Shall I sing you something from the opera? ” 

“ I shall be happy to listen. You look the 
part and I know you could act it.” 


COMPROMISED 


163 

More praise, and she smiled. That smile, like 
an ethereal essence, surrounded him and reached 
his brain. As yet his heart was untouched. 

She opened the piano and vocal score and seated 
herself at the grand piano. 

“What shall I sing? ” 

“ One of Carmen’s songs.” 

She turned to the first page. 

“ I will sing that about the Wild Bird. Stand 
at the end of the piano and look at me as I 
sing. The song requires facial as well as vocal 
expression.” 

He did so, and gazed fixedly at her as the 
words came with the melody — clear, vibrant, 
tempestuous with the passion of love. 

While she was singing the Bishop entered and 
closed the door. He leaned against it with his 
hands behind him, and listened to the song, watch- 
ing Inez and Samson closely from between his 
half-closed lids. 

The song ended, and Inez turned to Samson. 

“ Were I Carmen, and you Don Jose, and I 
sang that song to you, what would you do? ” 

“ I should leave town the next morning,” said 
Samson. 

“ And why? ” Inez arose from her seat. 

“ Carmen was a woman, who, if her love was 


1 64 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

spurned, would not have hesitated to kill the man 
she loved, if he did not return it.” 

“ And neither would I,” cried Inez, as she 
turned proudly away from him. 

The Bishop walked to the window, which 
opened to the floor. 

“ I will go out this way.” 

He stepped out on the veranda. In a moment 
he looked in: “It is very damp to-night. You 
are warm from singing, Senorita; I would close 
the window.” 

Samson sprang forward to close it, and, as he 
did so, fastened it. Then he dropped the bro- 
caded curtains, and they were alone, shut out from 
sight. 

“ And would you really run away from a 
woman who sang a love song to you — as if she 
meant it?” she said laughingly. 

“ I thought so, when I said it,” and Samson 
shook his head, as if he were not sure then. 

“ Do many men in Utah have hair the color of 
yours? ” 

“ I never saw but one, and he was a Norwegian. 
But many women have. My sister Flora has 
golden hair — not corn-colored like mine, but 
with the glitter of the real metal. My wife’s 
hair—” 


COMPROMISED 


165 


Inez started. 

“ You have a wife? ” 

“ Yes, and a child.” 

“ But the Bishop said — ” She stopped. 

“What did the Bishop say?” asked Samson. 

“ He said he was trying to find a wife for you.” 

“ He is very kind, but officious in that respect. 
I am a Mormon, but I do not believe in plural 
marriage, and never shall.” 

Inez apparently ignored what he had said. 

“ Is your wife beautiful? ” 

“ In my eyes, yes.” 

“ Does she look like me — I mean, is she 
dark? ” 

“ Yes, she is dark, — but not beautiful like you.” 
The truth came involuntarily. 

“ I never saw a woman as beautiful as you 
are before.” 

To the olive cheek came a faint flush, and the 
dark lashes fell before the languorous eyes. 
Samson was entranced. She looked like a sleep- 
ing goddess. The modern Samson and the 
modern Delilah had met, and she was charmed 
with his hair. 

Suddenly, overwhelmed by his passion, he 
caught her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. 
She did not resist, and again and again he tasted 


1 66 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


their sweetness. His eyes too were closed in the 
ecstasy of the moment. 

There came a tap at the window. They sprang 
apart as if they were guilty and feared exposure. 
Samson went to the window, but there was no 
one there. As he turned from it there came a 
rap at the door. 

“ Come in,” said Samson. 

The handle was rattled, but no one entered. 
Samson tried the door. It was locked. He 
turned the key, opened the door, and admitted 
the Bishop. 

“ I tried to return by the window,” said the 
Bishop, “ but found it locked.” 

“ I locked it,” said Samson, “ but I did not lock 
the door.” 

The Bishop’s look was one of incredulity. 

“Who else could have done so?” 

Inez did not speak, but walked proudly from 
the room. 

“You have compromised her,” said the 
Bishop. 

“ Not if you are silent,” said Samson. “ I 
swear to you that I did not lock that door. Per- 
haps you did, you are so anxious to find a wife 
for me.” 

“ Who told you that? ” 


COMPROMISED 167 

“ The lady herself. It seems you have con- 
fided your plans to her.” 

“And have you had no confidences with her? 
She seemed agitated when I entered the room, 
her hair was disarranged, and — ” he took a long, 
dark hair from Samson’s coat, “ she has left you 
a token to remember her by.” 

“ I have no more to say to you. I will see the 
lady to-morrow and settle this affair with her.” 

The next morning they met, but she was not 
alone — the Bishop accompanied her. The 
Bishop spoke first. 

“ I have talked with the Senorita, and she 
agrees with me. You have compromised her and 
must make reparation.” 

“ I apologize most humbly for any wrong I 
have done, and will go away at once.” 

“ That will not do,” said the Bishop sternly. 

“ There is only one honorable reparation that 
you can make. You must make her your wife.” 

“ I never will. She knows I am married, for 
I told her.” 

“ She has joined our Church and she accepts 
all its beliefs.” 

Samson turned to Inez. “ And you would 
marry me, knowing that I have a wife and 
child?” 


1 68 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ What did you say that Carmen would do, if 
she loved a man and he spurned her love?” 

“ I said that she would kill him.” 

“ And what did I say then? ” 

“ That you would do as Carmen would have 
done.” 

“ And so will I. Come, Bishop, Mr. Orme 
and I understand each other perfectly.” 

The next evening the Bishop married them, 
and while Samson was speaking the words that 
bound him “ for time and all eternity ” Hilda was 
singing to her baby and writing a letter full of 
love and trust to her faithless husband. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A LAPSE OF TIME 


HE reader must stand with us now and take 



A a look backward. Six years have elapsed 
since Franklin Briant began his legal studies. 
Many events have occurred in the lives of those 
individuals in whom we are interested, and many 
changes in the community in which they lived. 

Upon receiving assurances that plural mar- 
riages would absolutely cease, that the moral 
laws governing the rest of the nation would be 
enacted and enforced, and that the close con- 
nection of the Church with politics would be 
broken, Congress passed an Enabling Act, under 
which Utah became a sovereign State. The 
women were enfranchised, not, as later events 
proved, as a step in their advancement, but rather 
to form a solid bulwark of defense for the Church. 
Each head of a family of plural wives was like 
a ward “ boss ” ; each ruler of a “ stake of Zion ” 
was a power in politics, and at the head of all 
was the prophet-president controlling heavenly 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


170 

affairs with one hand and terrestrial matters with 
the other. The Saints were out of bondage and 
in their own land. With this brief retrospect 
with regard to the community, let us return to 
those whose doings we are interested in following. 

Franklin Briant was a diligent student and won 
a cum laude for his college work. He had taken 
up his legal studies with the same ardor, had 
passed his bar examination, and was now quali- 
fied to speak in defense of both the guilty and 
the innocent. He had no fallacious idea that he 
would only defend the innocent, for he reasoned 
that such a course would make lawyers ex parte 
judges and deprive both guilty and innocent of 
a fair trial. 

In the Gentile home, the lives of the Briant 
family had moved along with an even tenor. 
Madison Briant had continued his editorial at- 
tacks upon what he deemed wrong in Mormon 
customs and in the actions of the Church hier- 
archy. Miss Priscilla still oiled the household 
machinery and gave it impetus, aided by two 
young ladies, Gertrude and Susan, for the childish 
“ Sukey ” had become obsolete from disuse. 
Miss Priscilla yearned for her old home, or one 
near it, but she ever made personal satisfaction 
bow to duty. Susan was facile and made many 


A LAPSE OF TIME 


171 

friends, both Gentile and Mormon. With the 
latter she had many arguments, which often de- 
generated into disputes, and even quarrels. 

At breakfast one morning her uncle asked, 
“ Did you tackle any Mormons yesterday, 
Susan? ” 

“ Yes; Billy Redding said the men in the East 
were no good; that they were all tailors. He 
had heard that old joke. So I said, ‘ Perhaps it 
does take nine tailors to make a man where I 
came from; but here it takes nine wives to make 
a home, and then it is only an apartment housed ” 

Her uncle laughed heartily at her retort. 
When he told the story to his assistant editor, he 
added, “ And the husband is the janitor who 
serves all the families.” 

There was quiet in Jason Orme’s houses, but 
in one of them there was no happiness. Sister 
Florence, or Mrs. Jason Orme, had not seen her 
daughter Flora since the night she had been given 
her full rights, in the eyes of others, as a lawful 
wife. To her repeated questions Jason had an- 
swered that Flora was well. When asked for leave 
to visit her, he said she had left the city, but would 
not tell where she was. Samson was away, and 
the mother was helpless and unhappy. 

But Flora was still in the old home on the South 


1 72 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

Road. Sister Elizabeth was not her only com- 
panion. There was a little girl who called her 
“ Mamma,” who loved her, and whom she took 
in her arms and pressed to her bosom, knowing 
that she was hers, and hers alone. Did the child 
resemble him? She did not know, nor did she 
care to remember. When the child came she had 
forgiven him, then had forgotten him. No, little 
Ida, for that was the name she had given her, 
resembled Hilda, — having the same dark eyes 
and bluish brown hair that hung in natural 
curls. She would have named her child Hilda, 
but Hilda said: “ Do not think me unkind, Flora, 
or be angry with me; but I cannot bear to have 
my name borne by one I love, but who is the 
child of the man who caused my father and 
mother so much misery, and who is now working 
to ruin my husband and me.” 

Flora was not offended, and said: 

“ I will take part of your name anyway, for 
Hilda has a name within it — I will call her Ida.” 

The Bishop had reported to the President the 
success of his mission: Samson Orme had taken 
a plural wife. An order had come for Samson to 
remain at Calabasas. The President’s venge- 
ance was not yet complete. Not only should 
Hilda have a rival, but her child should have 
one also. And Hilda still received loving letters 


A LAPSE OF TIME 


i73 

and wrote them in return. She prayed that her 
husband’s absence was the only trial that she 
would have to bear. 

And what of Samson Orme? Did he pass his 
days in figurative sack cloth and ashes, bewailing 
his perfidy? Far from it. The abstinent Mor- 
mon had become a sybarite. His plural wife was 
a beautiful woman. She had played with his 
tawny hair, which she had insisted must be al- 
lowed to grow long; she told him that she loved 
him and lavished upon him every luxury that her 
wealth could procure. 

The ancient Delilah cut the hair of the ancient 
Samson that she might deprive him of his strength 
and deliver him to his enemies. But the woman 
of Calabasas, unlike the woman of Sorek, knew 
her husband’s secret, and it did not disturb her. 
He had another wife, but he was hers and she 
would hold him by the very power of her love. 

While Samson lolled in this sweet slavery, he 
kept his secret from Hilda. He wrote of the 
great work for the Church and of his love for 
her; and what was still baser in him he read these 
letters to Inez, and they both laughed over them. 

And thus he drank from a golden chalice filled 
with the wine of love; but, in his heart, did he 
not feel that a day of discovery and retribution 
must come? 


CHAPTER XXII 


A BATTLE ROYAL 

T17HEN Samson returned to the house in Sixth 
* * North street, he tried to appear natural, but 
he was a changed man. He could not serve two 
masters, — one to whom he now clung, the other 
to whom he was bound. 

“ Why didn’t you have your hair cut while you 
were away? ” asked Hilda. “ Were there no 
barbers? ” 

“ The sun was very hot, and it protected my 
neck.” 

“ Well, you don’t need it now. I don’t like 
it. Do have it cut. It makes you look effemi- 
nate.” 

What would Inez say, if he did as Hilda 
wished? He would not do it. The next time 
she spoke of it, he answered surlily: 

“ I prefer it this way. What would you do, if 
I asked you to have yours cut off? ” 

“ If wearing my hair as I do made me look 
like a man, and belied my womanly qualities, and 
174 


A BATTLE ROYAL 


i75 

my husband said so, I would sacrifice it willingly.” 

Samson did not comply with her wish, and this 
aroused the first suspicion in Hilda’s mind that 
with that long hair some secret was connected. 
A woman loves a secret — not to keep, but to 
find out. 

Samson was away from home often, several 
days at a time. Church business, he said, took 
him on these trips. He had no other business 
now, and must attend to his new duties to earn 
their living. As the remittances from the Presk 
dent had stopped when her husband returned she 
could oppose no argument against his statement. 
She had been alone many years; now she was so 
fully half the time, and her husband when there 
seemed to have lost his love for things that had 
once pleased him. Yes, there was some mystery 
in his past or present life and she would find out 
what it was. 

Then something occurred that raised Hilda’s 
suspicions to the fever point. He was away 
three nights in succession, but came to the house 
to dinner. Hilda asked no questions. If she 
did, she knew the answer would be, “ Church 
business.” She determined to follow him the 
next time. But she could not do so in the day — 
it must be at night. So she cooked a dainty that 


1 76 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

he always enjoyed and Insisted upon his staying 
to supper. She had allowed Amy to go to a 
birthday party of one of her playmates in a near- 
by house. There was to be music and dancing 
in the evening, and she was to call for Amy at 
nine o’clock. 

It was half-past six when he left the house. 
She had less than three hours in which to dis- 
cover — what, she knew not ; but she hoped against 
hope that her fears were groundless. She put on 
a long cloak and a hat that shaded her face, and 
reached the street before he had turned into the 
broader highway. She kept him in sight until 
he reached the corner of First North street. She 
was so far behind him that when she turned the 
corner he had disappeared. She stood irresolute. 
He was on that street, in one of the houses — 
but there were many of them. She could not go 
to each and inquire for him; and if she found him, 
what reason could she give for seeking him? 
But she would not give up the search, and walked 
along the right-hand side of the street. 

On the left there was a house brightly lighted. 
It was a fine house, — a mansion compared with 
the one in which she lived. A woman was sing- 
ing. Such a glorious voice! It must be a love 
song. It was — the same one with which Inez 


A BATTLE ROYAL 


177 

Delora had fascinated Samson Orme. But Hilda 
did not know that and had only kind thoughts and 
admiration for the singer. 

She must see her — she must be beautiful. 
God would certainly give a face to match such 
a voice. She could not imagine such a gift in 
an ugly or plain body. There was a wide ve- 
randa to the house. She would ascend the steps 
quietly and try to look into the room. The curtain 
was down but was moved fitfully by the night wind. 
If she were discovered, she would ask for some 
one and say that she had mistaken the house. 
She reached the window unobserved and waited 
for a friendly puff of wind to move the cur- 
tain. It came, and she looked into the 
room. 

A woman, richly dressed, sat at the piano. 
Her face was in profile. A man stood beside 
her and he had long, tawny hair like Samson’s. 
It shaded his face. The woman caressed it, and 
laid her face against it. So this woman loved 
yellow hair. She heard her speak. 

“ My love, the air chills me. Please shut the 
window.” 

The man turned to do her bidding. As he 
came toward the window Hilda saw his face. It 
was Samson Orme, her husband! She gave one 


178 the house of shame 

despairing cry and fell prostrate upon the ve- 
randa. 

A servant was sent to learn the cause of the 
disturbance. He found the unconscious Hilda 
where she had fallen, and went back to report to 
his mistress. 

“What is it, Federico?” 

“ A woman has fainted on the veranda.” 

“ Bring her in here, and then get wine and 
water. Samson, you will find my vinaigrette on 
my dressing-table. Go and get it, and be quick, 
love.” 

Federico laid Hilda upon a low divan and ran 
for the wine and water. Inez regarded the face 
before her and thought, “ Some poor woman, — 
but why was she — ” 

Federico came, with the wine and water, and 
after him Samson, with the vinaigrette. The 
servant stood, awaiting orders. 

“ Federico, you may retire. And you too, 
love. I will call you when she revives.” 

The servant rejoined his companions. Sam- 
son was left alone with his thoughts. He had 
heard that shriek. Could it be Hilda? Had 
she followed him? It could not be. There was 
no one in sight when he entered the house, and 
he had come in the back way. 


A BATTLE ROYAL 


179 

Hilda soon revived and looked up into the face 
of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. 
Flora was pretty, sweetly pretty; but this woman, 
with the wonderful voice, was grand, superb, 
majestic, — a woman that a man might worship. 

“ You are better,” said that wonderful voice, 
as melodious in speech as it had been in song. 
“Take some wine. It will give you strength.” 

Yes, strength, — that was what she needed for 
what was to come, and she drank the glass of 
wine. It sent the blood coursing through her 
veins. She sat up. She was strong again — 
ready for the battle in which she was to win or 
lose. But could she hope to win against such an 
adversary? She must begin the fight. 

“ Who was that man who stood beside you 
at the piano, — that man with the long yellow 
hair? ” 

“ That was my husband.” The voice was low 
and sweet, with that tone that indicates the pride 
of possession. 

Hilda’s first inclination had been to be indig- 
nant — to be the wronged wife — and to attack 
her rival with bitter words. No, this woman was 
a lady, with a sympathetic heart, for she had been 
kind to her, and she would be a lady too. 

“What is his name?” 


i8o THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“It is Samson Orme. Do you know him?” 

“ It is strange,” said Hilda; “ my husband has 
long yellow hair, and his name is Samson 
Orme.” 

Inez realized the situation. This woman had 
rights and they must be acknowledged. She had 
not indulged in heroics beyond her first cry, 
which was a natural one, of surprise. 

Inez opened the portiere and looked into the 
back room. 

“ My love, come here. We have a visitor.” 

He came in, with an expression on his face such 
as criminals have when they ascend the scaffold. 

“ Samson, I judge this is the wife of whom you 
told me.” 

Hilda started. Then he had not deceived this 
woman as she had first supposed, and had even 
hoped. She had become his wife, knowing that 
he was already married. Could such a beauti- 
ful body have such a cold, merciless heart? But 
she herself would restrain her feelings. 

“ Samson, you have done wrong to us both by 
not introducing me to this lady before. Why 
did you tell me that she lived in Ogden? I see, 
it was to explain your long absences.” 

She turned to Hilda. “ Where do you live? ” 

“ In Sixth North street.” 


A BATTLE ROYAL 181 

“ Only five streets away,” and Inez laughed. 

“ Sir, you are to blame. You owe us both an 
apology.” 

Hilda resented the tone and words. The first 
was patronizing; the second placed this plural 
wife on an equality with herself. 

“ This *is no time for pleasantry, and no 
apology will atone for the wrong done me.” 

“ What wrong? ” asked Inez calmly. 

“You ask me what wrong? How could you, 
knowing that this man was married and had a 
child, take away my husband from me and a 
father from my child? ” 

“ I have not taken him away. I have a child 
too, a little darling boy, two years old. His 
name is Manuel — his father’s name did not suit 
him — he is dark like me.” 

“ But why did you marry him? ” 

“ Because I loved him — that hair is my pride. 
I comb it, and caress it. He would not let me 
perfume it because you would notice it; but now 
I can.” 

“ You do not answer my question,” persisted 
Hilda. “ I will put it plainly. Did you will- 
ingly become a plural wife?” 

“And why not? I have joined the Mormon 
Church for love of this man. I became his 4 for 


182 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


time and all eternity,’ because God says that such 
a union is right. When I die, I shall become a 
daughter of Heaven. He will be a son of 
Heaven and we shall live together forever. If 
you believe as we do, you will be with us and 
enjoy our happiness forever.” 

“ But,” cried Hilda. “ I do not believe as you 
do. I am a Mormon, but do not accept celestial 
marriage as God’s command. Instead, he has 
forbidden it. When this man became my hus- 
band he believed as I do, and he gave me his 
promise that he would never have another wife 
while I was living. When he was sent South he 
repeated that promise, and he has led me to think 
that he had kept his word by writing me loving 
letters. But for your song, which led me to wish 
to see you, I should not have found him, but have 
gone on suspicious, unhappy, but with no proof of 
his treachery. I thank you for that song, though 
it has wrecked my happiness. I am going away. 
I will never live with him again. You may have 
him. I give him to you. When he tires of you, 
he will take another.” 

“ He dare not leave me,” cried Inez, showing 
passion for the first time. “ If he does, I will kill 
him. I have told him so. My love, do you re- 
member Carmen’s song? You should — by it 


A BATTLE ROYAL 183 

your wife here found you ; and while I live to sing 
it, I will never lose you.” 

“ If I took the life of this man who has de- 
ceived me,” said Hilda, “ the law would take 
mine, and that would be too high a price to pay 
for his dead body.” 

She faced her husband who had not spoken a 
word while the war of tongues had lasted. 

“ Samson, I shall leave Utah to-morrow. I 
shall take Amy with me. She is mine. If you 
wish to see her for the last time, come early. I 
shall take nothing but my personal belongings. 
You can keep the house for your third wife.” 

When she was gone, Inez said: 

“You get out of it very easily, Samson. If 
you had treated me as you have her, you would 
not be alive now. Come, I will sit on the divan, 
and you kneel before me. I will comb your hair, 
that lovely hair, and put some perfume on it. 
It will make her remember me when you see her 
to-morrow morning.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A DELIVERANCE 

1T7HEN Hilda reached the street she found it 
* * was raining. The cool drops and the chill 
wind that was blowing were both grateful to her 
heated face. As she walked on the scene came 
back to her. There had been a battle, and she 
had lost. She had surrendered and retreated. 

But she did not regret her action. She could 
not live with him again. How could she pass 
days and nights alone, knowing that he was with 
her? She was beautiful — she, a woman, could 
not but allow that — and her voice was melody 
itself. Who had placed this snare in her hus- 
band’s path? Who but the President, who was 
her enemy? She had defied him at her wedding 
and he had taken time for his revenge. She was 
powerless, helpless, with only one possession left, 
— Amy, the beloved. That was what the dic- 
tionary said the name meant, and she had chosen 
it for that reason, and it had been her mother’s 
also. 


184 


A DELIVERANCE 


185 

It was after nine o’clock when she arrived at 
the near-by house, and Amy was crying because 
her mamma was lost. But children’s tears and 
fears soon vanish when a mother’s arms enfold 
them, and Amy cried, “ Oh, Mamma, I’ve been 
dancing.” That was why the child’s dress was 
damp from perspiration, but Hilda’s cloak was 
drenched and would be no protection. 

The air was warm and the sun was shining 
when Amy had gone to the party in the after- 
noon. Her mother had intended to bring a wrap 
when she came for her, but her troubles had 
driven even thoughts of her child from her mind. 
She thanked the hostess for the pleasure she had 
given Amy and, with the child in her arms, ran 
to her own home. Home? Was it any longer 
a home? No, only an abiding place for one night 
more — then, she knew not where. 

The fire had gone out and the room was cold. 
She put Amy to bed and covered her up warmly. 
Then she sat down beside the bed to think of her 
future. She could not sleep, and she had her 
preparations to make. She would leave the house 
as soon as her husband, who had another wife, 
had said good-by to his daughter. No doubt he 
thought more of his son than he ever had of Amy. 

She began packing up, putting everything into 


1 86 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

a small trunk. What should she do with his let- 
ters, — those evidences of hypocrisy, — that had 
given her so much pleasure in the past. She could 
never read them again. She must burn them. 
They blazed up, but gave little heat. Burned- 
out love is cold. At last they were all in ashes 
and her love was buried with them. 

She was aroused by a dry, shrill cough from the 
little one in the bed. She was at her side in a 
moment. She placed her hand on the child’s 
forehead; it was hot. 

“ She had taken cold. It was cruel of me to 
expose her so.” 

She gave her some water, of which she drank 
a little with difficulty. Amy had never been sick. 
Putting more clothes upon the bed, Hilda went 
back to her work. 

It was not long before the child coughed again; 
but this time it was sibilant, like the hiss of a 
serpent, and it startled Hilda as the sight of that 
reptile would have done. Again came the 
cough — harsh and brassy was the sound. 
Hilda was quickly at the bedside. The fever 
had increased, and the child’s forehead was cov- 
ered with sweat. She wrapped it up and held 
it in her arms. What should she do? She 
dared not leave her to go for a doctor — she did 


A DELIVERANCE 


187 

not know where one lived. Yes, she would 
awaken the father of the little girl who had given 
the birthday party. He had five children, and 
he would go for a doctor. She laid the child 
on the bed, and put on the cloak that was still damp 
and cold. She shivered at the thought of going 
out into the dark night and the cold storm, for 
she heard the rain beating against the window- 
panes. 

She must take another look at her child. The 
little one’s face was red, her lips livid, and the 
nails on the chubby little hands were blue. The 
pulse was weak, but beating quickly. She could 
not leave her thus. She threw off the damp 
cloak, and took the child in her arms again. Its 
efforts to breathe were distressing, and Hilda wept 
in dumb, helpless sympathy. 

The little body could not stand the strain any 
longer; its strength was exhausted. At last it lay 
quietly in her arms. The worst was over, and 
now she would get better. Hilda laid her gently 
on the bed and said, “ Amy, love, do you feel 
better? ” The child did not answer, nor did she 
move. 

Hilda bent down — no breath came from 
mouth or nostril — the little heart was still. Her 
treasure, her beloved, the only tie that bound her 


1 8 8 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


to earth, was gone. She was alone — father, 
mother, husband, child, all gone. The tears fell 
freely. She was repentant — it was a punish- 
ment from God for her sins. She had been 
brought up in the Mormon faith, but had not ac- 
cepted all its teachings. No doubt she had been 
wrong to set her will against God’s commands. 
For hours she sat administering this self-castiga- 
tion. Then she arose and went to a bookcase 
that held some volumes that had belonged to her 
father and which she had treasured. As she read 
the titles she found one called “ The Family 
Physician.” She found that one chapter was de- 
voted to the diseases of children. She read on, 
but there were no symptoms like those shown by 
Amy until she came to Croup. Then she under- 
stood. With the knowledge came a revulsion. 
God had not caused her child’s death. It was 
due to natural causes. Anyone’s child, no mat- 
ter how good Mormons their parents were, would 
have died under similar conditions. 

But she would not take all the blame. If her 
husband had been true to her, this would not have 
happened. She had been neglectful of her child, 
but it was his fault that had made her so. The 
tears were dried up, and the mother’s heart 
turned to stone. The Church had done this. 


A DELIVERANCE 


189 

The Church was her enemy, and henceforth she 
would be an enemy of the Church that had taken 
from her all that she loved. And the man who 
had done this was Flora’s husband. Oh God, 
what a mockery life was! 

It was ten o’clock the next morning when her 
husband came. He tried to be genial; perhaps 
his wife had changed her mind during the night. 
She must recognize that what had been done could 
not be undone, and she must decide to make the 
best of it; so he greeted her with, 

“ How are you this morning, Hilda, — feeling 
better? ” 

“ That does not matter. You came to see 
Amy. When you have done so, we part for- 
ever.” 

“As friends?” 

“ No.” 

“ As enemies? ” 

“No — as nothing. We are nothing to each 
other — that is the only name for it.” 

He said no more, but went to the bedside. 
Hilda had put Amy in the bed again. Her eyes 
were closed and the dull red in her cheeks had 
softened to a faint pink, and she seemed to be 
asleep. ' 

“ It is late. Why is she not up? ” 


190 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ She went to a party last night. She was very 
tired, so I did not awaken her. But you may do 
so. It will be for the last time.” 

“Amy! Amy! Wake up and speak to 
Papa.” 

There was no sign of motion. 

“ She is sleeping very soundly,” said he. 

“ Yes,” said Hilda. “ Her last sleep. You 
came too late. Put your hand on her forehead.” 

He did so, and shrank back. 

“She is dead!” 

“ Yes, she is dead. It is a great deliverance.” 

“ You seem glad that she is dead.” 

“ Glad to lose the only one I loved, — the only 
one who loved me? Not glad, oh, no! But 
there are fates worse than death. If she had 
lived, her lot might have been like mine — dis- 
carded — cast out into the world.” 

“ Don’t be foolish, Hilda. This is your 
house. I will spend half of my time with you. 
Mothers have lost children and have had others.” 

“ Say no more, Samson. As soon as Amy is 
buried, I shall go away. You will never see me 
again.” 

“ But you have no money.” 

“ If I did not have a dollar, I would take 
none from you. What was given me, while I 


A DELIVERANCE 


191 

thought you faithful, is mine. I have been 
economical and have saved much of it, — all that 
I shall need until I find some way of earning my 
own living.” 

“ And these are your last words to me?” 

Samson was disappointed. He had expected 
that when her passion abated she would accept 
the inevitable. He had truly loved Hilda when 
he married her, and no ordinary woman could 
have shaken his allegiance. But Inez was a 
siren, and the strongest men, in all times, have 
listened to their songs and have become their vic- 
tims. Hilda replied: 

“ I have little more to say. I have given you 
to her. I have only now to give you back your 
name, to bear which is no longer an honor. From 
this day my name is Hilda Bond. You may go 
now.” 


CHAPTER XXIV, 


IDA 

CISTER ELIZABETH had gone to visit one of 
^ her daughters and was to be away for three 
days. Flora was not lonesome. Her little girl 
was all the company she desired, but Sister Eliza- 
beth relieved her of the heavy housework, and she 
was grateful for that. She was not very strong, 
and her close confinement indoors had reduced in- 
stead of increasing her natural stamina. 

She had not heard from Hilda for a long time, 
having had neither a visit nor a letter from her; 
but that morning a letter had come addressed in 
Hilda’s handwriting, but bearing a strange post- 
mark, — “ Chicago.” What could she be doing 
in that far-off city? 

She read the letter twice. Hilda had given her 
the story of her life from the time she had fol- 
lowed her husband to the burial of Amy. She 
said nothing about her present life. She would 
be in Chicago for several weeks longer, and gave 
an address at which a letter would reach her. 

Flora decided to answer the letter immediately. 

192 


IDA 


i93 

She had little to tell about her own quiet, unevent- 
ful life ; but she poured out her sympathy and love 
for her only friend. In conclusion she said: 

“ My heart goes out to you, Hilda, when I 
see my own little girl playing at my feet. God, 
in his mercy, might have spared you your only 
comfort.” 

The letter was sealed, addressed, and stamped. 
She must find some one to take it to the city and 
mail it. She looked at the address: “Miss 
Hilda Bond.” Hilda had cast away her married 
life and was a girl again — all but in heart. The 
freshness of that could never be restored. 

Flora looked from the window and saw a wagon 
approaching. It was on its way to the city, and 
the driver would take her letter. As she stood 
up, Hilda’s letter fell to the floor and Ida picked 
it up. 

“ You may play with it until I come back. I 
will put it in the fire then.” 

She ran from the house, but the driver had 
started up his horses and she had to run some 
distance before she could make him hear and cause 
him to stop. He consented to mail the letter and 
was about to start up his horses when they both 
heard loud cries and turned to see from whence 
they came. 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


194 

A little form, wrapped in flames, was running 
toward them, crying piteously: “Mamma! 
Mamma, save me ! ” 

The man took off his coat and wrapped it about 
the child. He rolled her upon the ground. His 
beard was singed and his hands blistered. 

“ I will carry her home for you,” said he, and 
he ran with her, Flora following speechless, and 
so weak from fright that she could hardly stand. 
When they reached the house, the door of which 
was open, they found the rug before the open grate 
in a blaze, but water was handy and it was soon 
extinguished. 

“ Have you any oil ? ” asked the man. “ Sweet 
oil, I mean. If not, put flour on the burns. It 
will deaden the pain. I will get a doctor and 
bring him back as soon as I can.” 

Ida’s little body was covered with burns. 
Flora covered them with flour, but the child 
moaned constantly, often uttering a piercing cry. 

How had it happened? Easily explained. 
All children like to help their mothers. Ida had 
tried to help by burning the letter. It caught fire, 
but the flame burnt her fingers and she dropped it 
upon the rug. As she stooped to pick it up her 
short, flimsy dress caught fire, and she had run 
screaming into the street. When the doctor came, 


IDA 


195 

brought by the man upon his wagon, the horses 
panting and covered with steam, he praised Flora 
for her forethought in applying the flour; but she 
disclaimed any credit, saying it belonged to the 
man who had brought him, and who had re- 
mounted his wagon and driven off. 

The doctor dressed the burns and made them 
antiseptic. 

“Will she live?” was Flora’s agonized ques- 
tion. 

“ She will, unless she has inhaled the flames. 
But I hope that she has not. She will suffer much 
pain and must have an opiate.” 

He counted out six pills from a bottle. 

“ Dissolve one in a little water or milk and 
have her drink it. In two hours give another, if 
she is in great pain, but not oftener, for they are 
very powerful, and an overdose would cause her 
death. You are a married woman? ” 

“ Yes,” said Flora timidly. 

“What is your husband’s name? I will get 
word to him at once.” 

Flora hesitated. 

“ I do not know.” 

The doctor seemed astonished at her reply. 
Then she asked, “ Are you a Mormon? ” 

“ Yes.” 


1 96 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“Do you believe in plural marriage?” 

“ I have two wives and shall take another as 
soon as my income permits.” 

Flora repressed her disgust at his reply. 

“ I do not know my husband’s name, but I 
know who he is. You will see him and tell him 
of the accident? He must pay you, for I have 
no money.” 

“ I will see him at once. Who is he?” 

“ He is the President of the Church.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


EUTHANASIA 

^TXTTIEN were you married?” the doctor 
* * asked. 

“ I don’t know the date. I had no means 
of telling. All I know is this — it was after the 
Manifesto.” 

“ I’m glad to hear that.” 

44 Why?” 

44 If the King breaks the laws it absolves his 
subjects.” 

“ I’m sorry I told you.” 

“ I will see your husband and come back again 
this afternoon — by four o’clock.” 

It was then one. Flora gave Ida the pill. 
She soon ceased moaning, but was very uneasy 
and was suffering much, despite the opiate. At 
three o’clock the second pill was given, and at 
four the doctor returned. 

“ Did you see him? ” 

44 No, he was not there. I saw one of the 
Councilors; but it isn’t safe to say much about 
plural wives, even to Mormons. Each man’s se- 
197 


198 the house of shame 

cret in his own. Probably the Councilor has a 
wife or two that the President knows nothing 
about.” 

Flora disliked the tone of levity in which he 
spoke of plural wives, as if they were horses or 
cattle; but she was one, she reflected, and had no 
right to be sensitive. 

“ Which Councilor was it? ” 

“ He’s from Vermont. That’s my native 
State. My name’s Dodd, Luther Dodd. He 
said his name was Orme.” 

“ He is my father. The only name I know 
to be mine is Flora Orme.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me so before? I’ll see 
them both to-morrow morning. I shall be busy 
to-night. The Mormon women are very fruit- 
ful. But how is the child? Has she been 
quiet? ” 

“ She has been uneasy. She will not drink. 
I had great difficulty in making her swallow the 
second pill.” 

“ You dissolved it? ” 

“ Yes, in milk.” 

“ I will examine her throat. It was probably 
burned and is very sore.” 

The examination was carefully made, but caused 
the child much pain. 


EUTHANASIA 


199 

“ I’m afraid I must prepare you for the worst. 
Her throat is badly swollen, and the flames prob- 
ably reached the stomach and the lungs.” 

“ And she will die? ” cried Flora. 

“ She might live, if she could take nourishment, 
but she can’t swallow. I will leave you a syr- 
inge. Fill that and put it down her throat as 
far as you can. The liquid will trickle down. 
Let me look at her eyes.” 

He held them open with his fingers and ex- 
amined them through a magnifying glass. 

“ I am not an oculist, but from what I see I 
think she may lose her sight.” 

He was a plain-speaking doctor, — not one of 
those who holds out hope when he knows that 
death will claim his patient in a few hours. 

Flora knew so little about sickness that his 
words did not jar upon her ears as they would 
have done upon those of persons acquainted with 
disease. 

“ Doctor, if she dies, what will be the cause, 
the burns? ” 

“ Primarily, yes ; but the final cause will be ex- 
haustion caused by lack of sustenance.” 

“ Shall I give the pills? ” 

“ No. She may ask for water or milk, if con- 
scious, but not if under the opiate. Make her 


200 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


eat. That is the only thing that will save her. 
I can do no more.” 

When he was gone the full meaning of his 
words came to Flora. She knew that the child’s 
face and body would be covered with scars, as 
the burns were so deep. Then he had said that 
she might be blind, — and exhaustion from the 
lack of sustenance meant what? It could only 
mean starvation — a long, lingering death. The 
little body would dwindle to a skeleton. Oh, it 
was horrible ! — and a few hours ago she had 
written that she was so happy, and had pitied poor 
Hilda. And now she was to lose her treasure 
and her comfort, and Hilda’s letter had brought 
one tale of misery and had left another. 

Her mind was full of questionings. Would 
the man they called her husband come to the 
death-bed of the child he had never seen? 
Would her father come? Would he tell her 
mother, and would she come to comfort and aid 
her only daughter? She must remain alone dur- 
ing the long night, for she could not expect to 
see them before the morrow. 

She filled the syringe that the doctor had given 
her with warm milk and tried to force it down 
the child’s throat; but the little one choked, and 
with a loud cry of pain threw herself upon her 


EUTHANASIA 


201 


face. To restore her to her former position 
brought more agonizing cries. An hour later she 
tried to administer food, but with the same futile 
result as before. Then she desisted. A mother’s 
wish is to remove pain, not to give it, nor increase 
it. The long night at last wore away. The 
child was much weaker: she moaned but the sound 
was fainter. 

All day long she waited, but no one came; no 
husband, no father, no mother, nor doctor. But 
he had said he could do no more. Sister Eliza- 
beth would not return until the next morning. 
She could not pass another long night alone, — 
looking at that little body from which the life was 
slowly ebbing. 

Yes, her child was dying from starvation; not 
from the torture of the burns, but from the pangs 
of hunger. Was it right to let her suffer so? If 
she must die, was it not cruelty to prolong her 
suffering? 

The doctor had said not to give the pills, be- 
cause she could not take food when unconscious. 
But she could not swallow it when conscious — 
and the pills dulled, if they did not entirely con- 
quer, the pain. Her mind was made up. Her 
child should suffer no more. The pills were very 
small, but, the doctor had said, very powerful. 


202 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


She dissolved one in a spoonful of milk; then she 
added a second, the third, and the last one. 
They would surely free her from pain and she 
would sleep. When she awoke she might be 
stronger, and could take some gruel or broth, 
which she would have ready for her. 

As she leaned over the bed she put one hand 
upon it to steady herself. It must have come in 
contact with the child’s body, for she opened her 
mouth and gave a loud scream. That was her 
opportunity, and the spoonful of liquor was thrown 
down her throat. Then Flora went to make the 
gruel and the broth. 

From time to time she stole quietly to the 
bed. Ida was quiet — she was better; and the 
mother, her heart lightened, went back to the 
kitchen. 

About six o’clock the doctor came. 

“ How is she? Has she taken any food? ” 

“ No, she could not swallow it. It nearly 
strangled her.” 

He went to the bed. He took the child’s hand 
in his — then put his face close to hers — then his 
ear close to her body. 

“ She is not in pain now,” he said. 

“No; I gave her the pills.” 

“ One in two hours, as directed? ” 


EUTHANASIA 


203 

“ No, she was in such pain, I gave them all at 
once.” 

“ You did? ” and the doctor’s lips closed tightly. 
“ Well, she is easy now. Don’t disturb her. It 
will do no good. Let her sleep — that is almost 
as good as food.” 

“ Did you see them?” asked Flora. 

“ Yes — both.” 

“Are they coming to see me?” 

“ That I can’t say. I will come again to-mor- 
row morning. I am very busy. Children come 
faster than they go.” 

Flora ate some of the gruel and broth, for she, 
too, was weak from lack of food and sleep. 
Then she slept, for tired nature could resist no 
longer. She was awakened by a loud knocking 
at the front door. It was nine o’clock. Per- 
haps Sister Elizabeth had returned earlier than 
was expected. She opened the door. 

44 Flora ! ” 

44 Mother!” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE CONFESSION 

^T^HEY entered the room. 

“ Is he coming to see his child? ” 

“ No, he dare not. He must be protected.” 

“ But was he not arrested when with me? ” 

“ Yes, but your name was not mentioned at the 
trial. No one knows you are married. I mean, 
no one who will make it public.” 

“ Then I have not even the small honor of be- 
ing known as a plural wife? ” 

“ Not even that, my dear.” 

“ Is father coming? ” 

“ He has sent me in his place.” 

Her mother went to the bed and looked at the 
child. She gave a sharp cry. 

“Why, Flora, your child is dead!” 

“ I know it, mother.” 

“ But the doctor tbld your father she might live 
several days — perhaps a week.” 

“ Yes, mother, and then die of starvation. I 
could not stand that, and I — ” 

204 


THE CONFESSION 


205 


“ What did you do? ” 

“ The doctor gave me some pills to ease her 
pain — he said they were very powerful and were 
to be given only once in two hours. But she was 
suffering so, I gave her four at once.” 

“ They must have killed her.” 

“ Did they?” Flora’s manner was apathetic. 
“ I thought only of her suffering and the lingering 
death that was to be hers.” 

“Does the doctor know?” 

“ He was here three hours ago. She may have 
been alive then. He said he would come again 
to-morrow morning.” 

Flora did not seem to understand the real na- 
ture of what she had done. Prompted by mother 
love, the criminality of the deed, if such it was, 
had not impressed itself upon her mind. Her 
child was free from pain, and would not starve 
to death, and this knowledge gave her satisfac- 
tion. The awakening was yet to come. 

Soothed by her mother’s presence and comfort- 
ing words, Flora went to bed and slept soundly 
her mother, as a watcher, by her side. The doc- 
tor came very early in the morning and was met 
by Mrs. Orme. 

“ Does she know that the child is dead? ” was 
his first question. 


20 6 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ Yes.” 

“ Does she know what caused her death? ” 

“ I told her, but she does not fully realize yet 
what she has done.” 

“ I came last night to try and save the child 
by giving it an enema, but it was too late.” 

“ Could you have saved her? ” 

“ Possibly. I can’t say positively. What she 
did was all right from a humanitarian point of 
view. It gives euthanasia, or a painless death. 
But the law doesn’t look at it that way. The law 
calls it murder ! ” 

“ Murder! ” Flora gasped as she uttered the 
word. She had been awakened by the doctor’s 
entrance, and, standing at the door, had heard 
what he had said. “ She might have been saved. 
I have murdered her,” she thought. She tried 
to reach the bed, but her strength gave way: she 
fell to the floor and became unconscious. 

“ This must be kept quiet,” said the doctor to 
Mrs. Orme. “ The President must be protected. 
If the Gentiles get hold of this he will be drawn 
into it, as will you and your husband. I will 
tmake out a certificate that she died from her 
burns — from natural causes. You must get her 
away from here. Tell her the funeral will be 
from your house. She will go with you. I will 


THE CONFESSION 


207 

see to the burial. Remember, the interests of the 
Church demand absolute secrecy about this af- 
fair, and your own interests too.” 

When Flora revived, her mother said that she 
must go home with her, that Ida, when ready for 
burial, would be brought there, and that her 
father said that she could live there in the future. 

Flora made no objection to this plan. She 
was stunned by what she had heard, and allowed 
herself to be led blindly. Sister Elizabeth re- 
turned, and the dead child was placed in her 
charge, with directions to make it ready for 
burial. 

The doctor, before leaving, had said he would 
send a carriage for them. It came, and the 
mother and the daughter were taken toward the 
city. When on the outskirts, the carriage stopped. 
The driver opened the door. 

“ I was told to leave you here, — that you 
would walk the rest of the way, as it is not far.” 

They walked slowly for Flora, though refreshed 
by her long sleep, was still weak. Suddenly she 
stopped. They were in the business section — 
before the building occupied by the Star. 

“ Don’t wait for me, mother. I know my way 
home. I must see Mr. Briant, and learn whether 
he has any word from Franklin. He was a 


208 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


friend of mine, you know, mother, a long time 
ago,” she said with a sad smile. 

The mother walked on, and Flora went up a 
long flight of stairs, at the head of which was a 
door, with a glass panel, on which was painted 
“ Editorial Rooms.” She opened the door and 
went in. Madison Briant was seated at his desk. 
He arose and came toward her. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


“ I AM GUILTY n 


“l\T RS. — Flora,” he exclaimed. 

“ Yes, Flora, — that is the only name I 
have a right to. My husband never gave me his, 
and I have disgraced my father’s.” 

He placed a chair for her, and closed the door 
leading to an adjoining room. 

“How can I serve you?” 

“ I have come to be arrested. I am a mur- 
derer. I have killed my child.” 

“ You are excited. You are not well. What 
has put you in this condition?” 

“ Many things. My child’s death at my 
hands; my marriage to help my mother, and to 
gratify one man’s ambition and another’s passion; 
but, first of all, my failure to receive Franklin’s 
letter when I should have done so. That has 
caused all my trouble.” 

Mr. Briant winced. That had been his doing. 

“ I am very sorry that I did not send it to 
you, if the consequences have been so serious. 

209 


210 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

But, you know, a marriage between you was im- 
possible — and I thought — ” 

“You thought I would cease to love him — 
that I would forget him — but I never have. 
But he did not write to me, and I thought he had 
forgotten me — and I — but you know what I 
did. My brother Samson told you, and now he 
has driven the woman who loved him out into the 
world. She is a noble woman. She kept faith 
with herself. I broke mine, and am a criminal.” 

“ I do not understand. Tell me about the 
child.” 

Then Flora told her story from the time 
she had finished her letter to Hilda until she 
entered his room. She did not spare herself, 
but made her act seem worse than it really 
was. 

Mr. Briant saw that, like many repentants, she 
had began her atonement by merciless self-accusa- 
tion. 

“ You wrong yourself,” said he. 

“ You did not intend to kill your child.” 

“ Yes, I did. She was suffering so, and I could 
not bear to sit and see her die from starvation, 

• — such a horrible death.” 

“ I still think you did not mean to do it, — that 
it was an accident.” 


“ I AM GUILTY ” 


21 1 


“ I did not know it was against the law, but 
that makes no difference.” 

“ Do you wish me to advise you? ” 

“ Not against my wishes. I want you to take 
me to the prison. I do not know where it is.” 

“ Your wish is a wrong one. You were inno- 
cent of intentional wrong-doing. You obeyed 
the maternal instinct that is higher than law, or 
ought to be. Say nothing about this.” 

“ That is what the doctor told my mother. I 
know why he said it. He is a Mormon, with 
a plural wife, and he wants another; and my 
husband, who is like him, must be protected — 
that is what he said — protected . But you are a 
Gentile and know that the way they live is wrong. 
When my story is told and my fate is known, it 
may save others. Do you not see that it will 
help you? ” 

Madison Briant did see that it would. He 
was a keen newspaper man, and he knew that 
Flora’s story in the Star would be telegraphed all 
over the country, and might awaken the home- 
loving men and women to take some action to 
end the evil. Then, too, it would bring the 
President of the Church before the public in an 
unpleasant light. 

Then he hesitated. He could not bring him- 


212 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


self to make this young woman, — one that his 
son had loved and perhaps loved still, — a vicari- 
ous sacrifice for the sins of others. 

She saw his reluctance to accompany her and 
said : 

“If you do not go with me, I will find the 
prison myself. ,, 

He saw that her will was inflexible. He took 
her before the magistrate who had issued the war- 
rant for her husband’s arrest. Her confession 
was taken down, signed and witnessed, and she was 
committed to jail. Thus the curtain fell on an- 
other act in her life’s tragedy. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


HER DEFENDER 

pRANKLIN BRIANT stood on the steps of 
a Chicago hotel. He was on his way home. 
He had finished his legal studies and his diploma 
was in his trunk. Before leaving Boston, he had 
made arrangements to return and become junior 
partner in a law firm, the head of which was a 
man of fifty, who had been impressed by his 
oratorical ability. The senior partner would at- 
tend to the office practice while Franklin would 
take up the court work. 

As Franklin neared the old home, old friends 
and old associations came back strongly to mind. 
But what of Flora? Had she married? She 
had not answered his letter. His father had not 
mentioned her in his letters and he would not ask 
him. But he loved her still. Six years is but a 
fleeting moment in the life of true love. A street- 
car stopped before the hotel and a lady started to 
alight. A coming automobile caused her to hesi- 
tate, but the conductor had pulled the bell. The 
213 


214 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

car started, the lady was thrown violently to the 
ground, and the car sped on. 

Franklin sprang forward and assisted her to 
arise. She was not seriously injured, but was 
greatly shaken by the fall. 

“ Let me assist you to the ladies’ parlor. 
There you can rest until you are able to go on.” 

The lady thanked him and was soon seated in 
the corner of a luxurious sofa. 

“Will you have a glass of wine?” 

“No; water, if you please.” 

Franklin brought it; then sat on a chair beside 
her. 

“ That conductor was negligent. You have a 
good claim against the company. You should see 
a lawyer. That is my profession, but I do not 
live here. I am on my way home to Salt Lake 
City.” 

The lady looked at him closely. 

“ Pardon me, but you do not look like one.” 
Then she laughed lightly at her remark, which 
she thought must sound so strange to him. 

“Like what?” he asked, with an answering 
smile. 

“ Excuse my careless, impolite speech. What 
I meant to say was that you did not look like a 
Mormon.” 


HER DEFENDER 


2i5; 

“ A Mormon? Heaven forbid. I belong to a 
family of militant Gentiles. My father is the 
editor of the Salt Lake City Star” 

“What?” cried the lady. “Is your name 
Franklin Briant? ” 

“ It is. Are you from Salt Lake City? I am 
very anxious to get home. Do you know many 
there? ” 

“ Mr. Briant, this is a providential meeting. 
I will bring no suit against the company now that 
it has brought us together. I was the wife of 
Samson Orme, but he took a plural wife, and I 
have left him. I have resumed my maiden name 
of Hilda Bond.” 

Franklin could not stop to express his apprecia- 
tion of her confidence, but asked, his excited man- 
ner betraying his great interest in the answer, 

“ Do you know Samson’s sister Flora? ” 

“ She was, and is still, my dearest friend. I 
had a letter from her yesterday.” 

“ Is she well?” 

Hilda knew that he must learn the truth soon, 
what kinder way, after all, to impart it than by 
reading Flora’s letter to him? ” 

“ I have her letter in my bag. It is a woman’s 
letter to a woman, but I am willing to read it to 
you ” and she strongly accented the last word. 


21 6 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ You are very kind,” said Franklin. 

She read the letter in a low voice. He listened 
intently. His face paled and his lips became 
closely set when she read the closing parts about 
her child. 

“ She is married then,” he said hoarsely, as she 
folded up the letter. “Who is her husband?” 

“ Mr. Briant, it is a long, sad story, in some 
way more bitter than my own. But I cannot tell 
it here.” 

“May I come and see you — this evening?” 

She gave him her address. 

“ I have much to ask you,” said he. 

“ And I have much to tell you,” was her reply. 

That afternoon the minutes seemed like hours 
to Franklin. He was to hear about Flora. She 
was lost to him, — but why? Why was her story 
a long, sad one, as Hilda had said it was? 
There was something hidden behind her words. 
His love was stronger than ever and to it was 
joined a resolve. If Flora had been unjustly 
treated, he would right the wrong. 

He went to dinner; but most of it was left un- 
touched, and what he ate was tasteless. Food 
does not feed the flame of love. On his way to 
see Hilda he bought an evening paper, which he 
put into his pocket. He was in no mood then to be 


HER DEFENDER 217 

interested in other people’s troubles, for he had 
a great sorrow of his own. 

Hilda took him to her own room. It was in 
a boarding-house, — the kind that is called 
“ genteel.” 

“ I will tell you my story first,” said she. 
“ You will better understand Flora’s when you 
hear it.” 

She told how her father’s property had been 
taken from him by the Church; how his family 
had been reduced to poverty, and she had been 
made an orphan; how Flora and her mother had 
been brought to her house, and the love that had 
grown between Flora and herself; of Samson’s 
visits to the house, and their betrothal and mar- 
riage; how he had been sent on a mission; of his 
return and her discovery that he had a plural wife; 
how she had renounced him; then of the death 
of her child, and of her departure from Salt Lake 
City. In closing, she said: “Now I have a mis- 
sion, — a life work: to preach the Gospel of de- 
liverance from the curse of polygamy. I know 
not how it can be done. I am only crying in 
the wilderness. Some stronger mind, some 
subtler brain than mine must find the solution of 
the problem.” 

Franklin thanked her for the confidence she had 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


218 

shown in him by thus baring the secrets of her 
life, but there was another story to be heard, — 
one nearer to his heart. 

“ You have been very patient and kind to listen 
to my troubles. You will understand that they 
make me sympathize with others. In the first 
place, let me ask you if you wrote to Flora after 
you came east? ” 

“ Yes, from Winsted, at my Aunt’s home. 
I sent it in a letter to my father. He had 
promised to have any letter I sent that way de- 
livered.” 

“ But he knew that you, a Gentile, could not 
marry a Mormon, and he wished to discourage 
the intimacy. The letter was not sent to her for 
a year after it was written; then it was too late. 
She was already a wife, and a plural wife at 
that.” 

Franklin sprang to his feet, overcome by his 
emotion. The blow had not been tempered, but 
had been a keen sword-thrust through his heart. 
He could have cursed his father, had he been there 
— yes, struck him in his anger. 

“ You must not blame your father,” said Hilda. 
“ What he did was right from his point of view. 
Pardon me, but in his place, you would have done 
the same.” 


HER DEFENDER 


219 


Franklin controlled his feelings. 

“Whom did she marry?” 

“ Her father’s first wife died, and he took 
Flora’s mother home in her stead. That was, ap- 
parently, a noble act, and Flora so regarded it. 
She loved her mother and was ready to sacrifice 
her own happiness that her mother might profit 
by it.” 

“ I do not understand,” said Franklin. 

“ You will soon. Her father was an Apostle, 
but he wished to be a Councilor. The new Presi- 
dent had seen Flora at my wedding. He was 
struck by her beauty — any man would be — and 
he coveted her. But how could he win her? A 
simple plan indeed. Jason Orme was not to take 
Sister Florence home unless Flora consented to 
become the President’s plural wife. She had not 
heard from you — she thought you had forgotten 
her — and she became a sacrifice.” 

“ It was damnable — a miserable conspiracy,” 
cried Franklin, “ and all who were concerned in it 
shall suffer.” 

“ I sympathize with you, Mr. Briant, but you 
can do nothing there. The enemy is entrenched. 
The fort is well garrisoned and provisioned. It 
must be a siege from without, not a battle within 
the walls.” 


220 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

“ I shall go back and do what I can,” said 
Franklin doggedly. 

“ Very well, but do not underrate your an- 
tagonist. My nerves are shaken and so are 
yours. I always have a cup of tea at this hour. 
Will you join me? ” 

He expressed his willingness, and she went to 
order it. When she returned she said: 

“ I usually buy an evening paper. The ones 
they publish here are so interesting. But my ac- 
cident made me forget it — I was so anxious to 
get home.” 

“ I bought one, but I have not looked at it,” 
said Franklin, as he passed it to her. The tea 
came. As Hilda was sipping it, she glanced at 
the head lines in the paper. 

“ That is a line one seldom sees in an eastern 
paper,” she exclaimed; “ 1 From Salt Lake City. 
A Mormon Woman Murders Her Child.’ ” 

Hilda read on. Her face turned white, and the 
paper fell from her nerveless hands. 

“ Oh, this is awful ! ” she cried, and burst into 
tears. Franklin picked up the paper and read: 

“ * A young and very beautiful woman, known 
as Sister Flora, who lived on the South Road, 
gave herself into custody yesterday, declaring that 
she had murdered her child, a little daughter 


HER DEFENDER 


221 


named Ida. She was at first thought to be in- 
sane; but investigation proved that her confession 
was true. She is a plural wife of a high official 
in the Mormon Church, and her father is a lead- 
ing member of the hierarchy. She will be 
brought into court soon for sentence.’ ” 

Franklin steeled his nerves to read to the end. 

“ Is it she?” 

“ There can be no doubt of it,” said Hilda. 

“ I must take the next train for home. What- 
ever her crime, she was driven to it. I will be 
her defender. Will you come with me? You 
can comfort her.” 

“ I cannot go. Give her my love — save her 
— but nothing could induce me to go back to that 
den of iniquity until it is purged of its greatest 
sin.” 

The limited express moved too slowly to satisfy 
Franklin. It gave him time, however, to map 
out his line of attack. He would assail polygamy, 
the political system that upheld it as a reward for 
political support, and the financial system that 
sustained it, while making paupers of those whom 
the Church tithes had formerly kept from the poor- 
house. 

When he met his father his anger had cooled; 
but his resolution was firmer than ever. He 


222 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


calmly asked his father to tell him all he knew 
about Flora. He did so, and his story corrobo- 
rated what Hilda had told him. She had not men- 
tioned the arrest and the fining of Flora’s hus- 
band. 

“ I will forgive you, father, for not delivering 
that letter as you promised to do. You did what 
you thought was right; but you have done us 
both a great wrong — you have wrecked two 
lives. She would have given up her religion to 
become my wife; and, if I could have won her in 
no other way, I would have renounced mine. I 
have studied history, and the bonds of religion 
have always been broken by the demand of a 
great love.” 

Franklin went to the jail. He was met by the 
jailer, who listened to his request to see Sister 
Flora. He shook his head. 

“ No one is allowed to see her.” 

“Why not?” 

“ That is my order.” 

“Who gave it?” 

“ One whom it is my duty to obey.” 

“You will take her a note from me?” 

“ No. The order is that there shall be no 
communication with the prisoner.” 

“ That is contrary to law.” 


HER DEFENDER 


223 

“ I don’t make the laws. If they don’t suit 
you, why don’t you have them changed?” 

“ I am her attorney. I wish to arrange for 
her defense.” 

“ There won’t be any. She has confessed. 
It’s only a question of sentence.” 

“ I shall demand a trial.” 

“ Go ahead. The judge is a stiff-necked man, 
but he’ll be likely to do what you tell him to.” 
The jailer turned away with a sneer on his face. 

Franklin determined to make one more trial. 
He followed the man and touched him on the 
shoulder. The man turned and said sharply: - 

“What do you want now?” 

“ Will nothing tempt you to let me see or write 
to the prisoner? ” 

“You mean a bribe?” 

“ If you call it that.” 

“ Can you pay my price? ” 

“What is it?” 

“ I am an elder in the Church. The man I 
obey can make me a Bishop. Can you?” 

Franklin turned away. He was against the 
wall of the fort that Hilda said surrounded the 
faithful. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THE TRIAL 

T?RANKLIN demanded a trial, and the demand 
was supported by a vigorous editorial in the 
Star, written by him. The next day the Mor- 
mon papers favored a trial, notwithstanding the 
confession. The prisoner was a Mormon and 
entitled to the benefit of any extenuating circum- 
stances that might be brought out at the hearing 
of the case. 

The judge, a devout Mormon, bowed to public 
sentiment, and fixed a date far enough ahead to 
give both sides ample time for preparation. The 
prosecution and defense kept their plans secret; 
the clash was to come in open court. 

In none of the newspapers had the President 
been mentioned by name, nor had he been di- 
rectly referred to. He was “ a high official in the 
Church,” but many could be so designated. 
However, Franklin had determined to subpcena 
Flora’s husband as a witness for the defense. 
For that reason the Star had been guarded in its 
224 


THE TRIAL 


225 

attacks, so as not to arouse suspicion of the con- 
templated movement. 

The court room was crowded: hundreds of 
tense, eager faces watched every movement and 
quickened ears listened for the first words to be 
spoken. 

The prisoner, dressed in black, her face veiled, 
sat in the dock. The room was warm, and Flora 
lifted her veil and turned her sweet, sad face 
toward the spectators. All eyes were fixed upon 
the woman who had killed her child. They did 
not look behind the fact. But Franklin Briant 
was waiting to give them the cause, the motive, 
the constitution of society that made such an act 
possible. 

The prosecutor arose, and all expected a bitter 
arraignment of the prisoner. What could be said 
in her defense? She had dishonored the Church, 
the Mormons thought, and should suffer for her 
crime. 

The prosecutor’s opening remarks were surpris- 
ing to all. 

“ May it please your Honor, before opening the 
trial, I wish to read an affidavit from Dr. Dodd, 
which has a very important bearing on the 


case. 


226 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


Franklin objected. When asked to state his 
objection he said: 

“ Why should not Dr. Dodd be present 
in court? I may wish to cross-examine 
him.” 

The prosecutor replied: “Your Honor, Dr. 
Dodd is ill in bed, and I have a medical certificate 
to that effect. The affidavit is properly drawn, 
signed, and witnessed.” 

The judge addressed Franklin: “Your objec- 
tion is overruled. The affidavit may be read be- 
fore proceeding with the case.” 

In his affidavit Dr. Dodd certified that he had 
been called professionally to attend a child that 
had been accidentally burned, that he had relieved 
its sufferings, and had given to the mother a mild 
sedative to quiet the patient and enable her to 
sleep. He denied the prisoner’s statement, as 
printed in the papers, that he had cautioned her 
about using the pills, and said that if they had 
been given all at once they would have produced 
no injurious effect. He declared that the child 
inhaled the flames and that its death was due to 
natural and well-understood causes. Franklin 
saw that he had been tricked. The prosecutor 
had become the defender. He could gain no 
opportunity to use his arguments nor his eloquence, 


THE TRIAL 


227 

unless he should become the prosecutor of the 
woman he had always loved. 

The judge addressed the prisoner. 

“ What did you do with the pills that were 
left? ” 

Flora answered firmly: “ There were none left. 
Six were given me and I used them alL’ , 

“ I do not see that any burden of proof can 
lie against the defendant,” said the judge. 

“ I am willing to enter a nol. pros.” said the 
prosecutor. 

“ I will accept it,” said the judge. “ The pris- 
oner is discharged.” 

The farce was over. A physician had com- 
mitted perjury, but it could not be proven. By 
that perjury the names of the husband and 
father had been saved publicity. Plural mar- 
riage had won another victory, and little Ida’s 
death was only the result of an ordinary ac- 
cident. 

Oh, Law ! how justice, between man and man, 
and woman too, is often defeated by the many 
disguises that you wear! 

There had been no demonstrations of approval 
of the judge’s decision. Perhaps the leading 
Mormons had been advised of its likely to be 
abrupt conclusion. It was a Mormon victory 


228 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

and there was no reason for the Gentiles to ac- 
claim it. 

Neither Mormons nor Gentiles came forward 
to congratulate the prisoner. They were disap- 
pointed. They had expected “ a celebrated case ” 
and had been given a fiasco. 

Yes, there was one soon at her side, and he 
was a Gentile. 

“ Where are you going, Flora? ” 

“ Back to the prison.” 

“ You must not do that. You must come to 
our home. My father and sister and Aunt Pris- 
cilla will welcome you gladly. They told me to 
tell you so.” 

“ Not to-day. The law has freed me, but not 
my conscience. That still says I am guilty, and, 
in some way, I must expiate my crime. I must 
be alone to think. Come to me to-morrow morn- 
ing. Perhaps God will have told me by that 
time what I must do.” 

With a sad heart, he left her, and she went 
back to the prison. The jailer, gruff and often 
insolent to Gentiles, was not unkind to prisoners 
of his own faith. 

“ You need not go to your cell,” said he. 
“There is a nice little room next to mine that 
you may have until you are ready to go.” 


THE TRIAL 


229 


44 1 prefer the cell/’ was her answer. 

He led her to it. She entered and he closed 
the door, but he did not lock it. She was no 
longer a prisoner, but a guest. 

Through the dreary afternoon and the long, 
dark night she tried herself at the bar of her con- 
science and recorded her verdict. At dawn she 
made ready to depart. She thanked the jailer 
for his kindness. He said, 44 Good morning,” 
pleasantly, and added, “ Good-by.” 

Flora passed out into the world again, inno- 
cent in the sight of the law, condemned by her own 


conscience. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE LONE HOUSE 


CHE met a man early on his way to work. 

^ “ Will you please tell me how to reach the 

South Road? ” 

He gave her the directions and walked on. 
He had no time to pass in court rooms, nor to 
read the newspapers that had contained her pic- 
ture. 

She had eaten and slept little while in the jail. 
She was weak, and the walk was a long one; but 
there was only one place where she could go and 
be alone, and that was the lone house on the 
South Road. 

The sun was high when she reached it, for she 
had stopped and rested many times. She tried 
the front door, but it was locked. She went into 
the garden arid sat down beneath the peach trees. 
Suddenly she sprang up, as if bitten by a serpent, 
and ran away from the place where the fatal 
words had been spoken that had made her a plural 
wife. She tried the back door; it was unlocked. 

230 


THE LONE HOUSE 


231 

Perhaps Sister Elizabeth was there. She called 
her name several times, but there was no response. 
She was alone, and she was glad to be so. 

She looked into the room where Ida’s bed had 
been. It was there, made up, but there was no 
smiling face to greet her. It was all true: it was 
not a horrid dream as sometimes it had seemed to 
be. 

There was no food in the house except a loaf 
of dry bread. She moistened some of it with 
water and ate it. She must not stay there. 
Only the sunlight gave her courage. She would 
be haunted at night. 

She must go on — she knew not where. It 
made little difference; but Franklin must not find 
her. She could not go to his father’s house. She 
was another man’s wife, and the man she loved 
would suffer, if she consented. No, she must go 
far away from him and everyone. She wished 
she could go to Hilda, but that was impossible. 
She did not know where Hilda was, and she had 
no money for a journey. 

Once more on the dusty, sun-burned road. 
She could not go thus. She went back and knelt 
beside the little bed. She prayed for God’s for- 
giveness and for that of her child. Then tears 
came to her relief — the first that she had shed 


232 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

since she had made her confession. She felt com- 
forted, and once more began the journey, to which 
she could not then see the end. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE RIVER JORDAN 


ROOM had been made ready for Flora in 



^ ** the Briant home. Aunt Priscilla had pre- 
pared a nourishing breakfast for the expected new- 
comer, and Gertrude and Susan had added to the 
guest’s room those little touches which gave it an 
air of welcome. There were flowers in a vase 
on a table, and a down pillow at the head of the 
sofa. The prodigal son could not have had a 
warmer welcome than was ready for the daugh- 
ter who had been more sinned against than sinful. 

Franklin had had a talk with his father the 
evening before. He had come to a fixed deter- 
mination to go East at once, and to take Flora with 
him. Her marriage had not been legal. She 
would go where she was not known, and, as his 
wife, she would be safe from reproach. 

“ I love her, father, and have always loved 
her — and always shall.” 

“ My boy, I have stood too long in the way 
of your happiness to oppose you now. I do not 
blame you for leaving Utah. I have thought 


234 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

many times lately that I would sell my paper, and 
go back to Winsted with Priscilla and end my days 
there. Gertrude and Susan will think of mar- 
rying soon, and I wish them to live in a cleaner, 
purer, moral atmosphere.” 

Franklin had ordered the carriage to come at 
seven. He would not go too early to the jail, 
for Flora was tired and might sleep late. 

“ I suppose I may see the lady this morning, 
as she is no longer a prisoner.” 

“ No, you can’t,” was the jailer’s curt reply. 

“ And why not ? What reason — ” 

“ A good one, that will satisfy you, particular 
as you are. She’s been gone three hours.” 

“Gone?” exclaimed Franklin. “Gone 
where? ” 

“How should I know? My boarders don’t 
leave their addresses. They’re too glad to get 
away.” 

Franklin recalled what his father had told him 
about the President’s arrest. It was at a house 
on the South Road. Perhaps she had gone there. 
It had been her only home. He gave the direc- 
tions to the driver, and the horses were whipped 
into a gallop. 


With trembling limbs, Flora walked 


on. 


THE RIVER JORDAN 235 

Often she rested upon a rock by the wayside, and 
several times she lay down upon the cool grass 
beneath the spreading branches of some tree. In 
a certain way, she was happy. She was alone with 
God and the warm sun and the pure, fresh air 
that were His gifts to man. Then, too, birds 
were singing in the trees, and bright flowers were 
blooming in the fields. Far ahead she could see 
a long, white line that glistened in the sun’s rays 
like polished silver. She must reach it, so she 
pressed on. The walls of the Heavenly City 
must look like that — and she had read that the 
streets were golden. 

At last she came near enough to see that it 
was a river, — the river Jordan. She had learned 
about it in her school days, but had never seen 
it before. She sat down upon the bank and 
watched the stream as it hurried on to lose its 
sparkle and freshness in the briny waters of the 
Great Salt Lake. 

She sat for a long time, oblivious to the world 
and to her own unhappiness. A holy calm had 
fallen upon her. For the time her conscience 
was numb, — or dumb, — she could not tell which. 
What fairer place to bid the world adieu, and go 
to meet her child, — that child that might now be 
in her arms but for her rash, wicked act. 


236 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

What sound was that? She listened. Could 
a carriage be coming that way? Yes, that was 
the sound of wheels, and of horses’ quickly mov- 
ing feet. She ran to the road, and screening her 
eyes from the sun, looked in the direction of the 
sound. 

Now the carriage was in sight, coming swiftly 
toward her. There were two men on the driver’s 
seat — and one of them was Franklin Briant. 
He had found her — but how? Then she re- 
membered that soon after leaving the house 
she had met an old woman with a bundle of fagots 
on her back. 

Her thoughts chased one another quickly. He 
must not see her. She could not go back with 
him. She would rather die than do that. This 
was the first time that she had thought of her 
own death. But why not? It was the open door 
to safety. He was nearly there. Perhaps he 
had seen her. If he found her, he would not let 
her go. She would be unable to resist his love 
— his passionate appeals. She would not live to 
profit thus by her sin. She ran to the river brink, 
gave one last look at the man she loved, and 
threw herself into the swiftly moving river. 


CHAPTER XXXII 


“ A WIFE AT LAST ” 

Tj'RANKLIN had met the old woman with the 
A bundle of fagots and from her had learned 
that he was on the right track. As they neared 
the river he had seen Flora standing by the road- 
side. He had given the horses a cut that sent 
them forward at the top of their speed. Fear 
took possession of him. Why was she so near 
the river? Did she mean to commit suicide? 

As the horses came to a sudden stop, drawn 
on their haunches by Franklin’s fear-strengthened 
hands, he saw Flora standing on the river bank, 
then he saw her disappear. 

“ Come and help me,” he cried to the driver, 
as he cast his hat and his coat aside and sprang 
into the river. 

The current had carried her far from him. 
She had sunk twice before he reached the spot. 
When she came to the surface for the third time, 
he grasped her by the hair, — that golden hair, 
— and swam for the shore. Jasper, the driver 
237 


238 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

aided him in carrying the seemingly lifeless form 
to a sunlit place. Franklin had learned at col- 
lege “ First Aid to the Drowning,” and, with 
Jasper’s help, applied it. 

He had no stimulant to give her — only the 
warm rays of the sun; but they sufficed, and, after 
what seemed an age to Franklin, she revived. 

Her first words tore his heart. 

“ I am dying, Frank.” 

He took her in his arms. 

“ Come back to me, Flora. You must not die 
thus.” 

“ I am happy to die here in your arms. God 
has sent you to me.” 

“ But you shall not die as the wife of that man. 
Come here, Jasper. Are you a Mormon?” 

“ No. I’m a Baptist, if I’m anything.” 

“ You must be a witness of what is going to take 
place. This woman’s name is Flora Orme. Her 
father is a Mormon, and she was brought up in 
that faith; but she recants, and abjures the Mor- 
mon religion. Flora, do you do this of your own 
free will ? ” 

“ I do, before God,” came faintly from her 
white lips. 

Franklin looked about him. No house in sight; 
they then were alone in a wilderness. 


A WIFE AT LAST ” 


239 

u Oh, this desolate place, ” he cried. “ If she 
were strong enough to bear the journey I would 
find a clergyman and make her my wife.” 

“ Would a justice of the peace do? ” asked Jas- 
per. 

“ Yes, but there is none nearer than the city.” 

“ I am one.” 

“ You?” 

“ Yes. I am not a driver. I am the proprietor 
of the livery stable. All my men were out, but 
you were in such haste I decided to come myself.” 

“ Thank God! ” The words were uttered by 
Franklin, as a thanksgiving, in the fullness of his 
heart. He knelt beside her. 

“ Flora, this man is a justice. He can make 
you my wife. Will you take me as your lawful, 
wedded husband? ” 

“ Yes.” She smiled — it was but a shadow — 
and placed her hand in his. 

“ Flora, I, Franklin, take you to be my lawful, 
wedded wife.” 

“ A wife at last.” Her voice was stronger 
than before, and Franklin took heart again. 
She lay in her husband’s arms, her blue eyes wide 
open, gazing upward at the cloudless sky. 

She lay thus for some time. Then her eyes 
brightened. 


240 


THE HOUSE OF SHAME 


“ I can see my Ida, and she sees me. Her hair 
has grown long again, and the scars from her 
burns do not show. She is smiling. She has 
forgiven me, and has asked God to pardon me. 
She is an angel now. I must go to her.” 

Franklin knew that the end was near. Those 
Heavenly visions come only when the gates of 
the Eternal Kingdom are open, and the glory 
shines through upon the dying. 

There was a choking feeling in Jasper’s throat, 
and, with bowed head, he turned away. He had 
seen many die, but they were in their beds, with 
their relatives and friends about them. 

To Franklin the passing of a soul from earth 
was a revelation. He had always thought that 
death was terrible, but now it had a sublime sig- 
nificance. 

Her eyes closed, her grasp of his hand relaxed. 
She who had been his wife for but one short hour 
was now only a sweet memory. He would never 
forget that when she died she was his, and his 
alone. 

She was placed tenderly in the carriage, and 
the curtains were drawn. As they came to the 
lone house, the horses were stopped. Franklin 
went to his wife’s room. There he found a faded 
blue ribbon, with which she had bound her hair 


“A WIFE AT LAST ” 241 

when a girl. He had given it to her. In a drawer 
he found the letter that would have saved her 
life, had it reached her in time. What were 
those spots on every page? He went to the 
window. They were where her tears had fallen. 
That letter was dearer to him than gold — those 
marks of her tears more valuable than diamonds. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


A FINAL RECKONING 

T?LORA lay upon the bed in the room in the 
Briant home that had been made ready for 
her. The flowers from the vase had been placed 
in her hand, — roses and lilies-of-the-valley, — 
typical of Life and Death. 

There was a happy smile upon her face. It 
had been there when she died and had not van- 
ished from the face that was now like marble. 
She had been forgiven by God, by her child, and 
by Franklin, who had made her his wife. Her 
body had been defiled; but her heart was pure, 
and the pure in heart “ shall see God.” 

Word had been sent to her father, and to the 
man who had made her an illegal wife. The 
notes were brief. 

To the father: 

“ I have found your daughter. She is at my father’s house. 
Do you wish to see her? 


242 


Franklin Briant.’ 


A FINAL RECKONING 


243 


To the President: 

“ I have found the daughter of Jason Orme. She is at my 
father’s house. Do you wish to see her? 

“Franklin Briant.” 

They came together. Each counted upon the 
other for support in what they knew would be a 
crisis. But they were not prepared for what they 
saw when they entered the room where she lay. 

“ There she is,” said Franklin. 

Both men were speechless. What could they 
say? — the father who had sold his daughter for 
his own advancement, and the man who had 
bought her to gratify his lust? 

But Franklin had much to say: 

“ Before she died in my arms she gave up 
your religion. She recanted in my presence and 
before another witness of my own faith. You 
may declare her an apostate and excommunicate 
her, if you wish. You cannot have her now. 

“ Before she died she became my wife. She 
was never a wife before. The ceremony that 
made her a plural wife was illegal by both civil 
and your own religious laws, and declared so in 
the Manifesto. We were married in God’s own 
temple, beneath the trees and the sunshine. She 
is mine. You shall not touch her. You shall 
not take her from me.” 


244 THE HOUSE OF SHAME 

Overcome by the intensity of his feelings, he 
sank upon his knees by the bed, took his wife’s 
cold hand in his, and hot tears fell upon it. 

When he arose he was alone. 


THE END 













dec *28 1912 













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